Serum
by Plumbum
Summary: An unusual epidemic breaks out inflicting children and adults alike. Harry Potter appears to be resistant to the disease, and his blood may carry the cure for all. Snape mentors Harry NOT-SLASH.
1. Chapter 1

**Serum**

_Synopsis_: An unusual epidemic breaks out inflicting children and adults alike, while its cure evades discovery even by expert Healers.

Finally it comes to light that Voldemort's preceding silence wasn't a coincidence; he caused the epidemic himself, thus declaring war on the entire wizarding society. All those who proclaim their loyalty to Voldemort are provided with a protective serum, making them immune to the disease.

However, as all plans, this one has its failings, too. The serum progressively loses its potency, and people who receive it eventually become sick as well. But there is one person unaffected by the illness. Professor Snape remains clueless as to why Harry Potter, the only person who was present when the first disease case emerged, still remains completely healthy…

The race against time commences, even as Harry's protection becomes a challenge. Everyone wants to capture him, seeing that his blood may hold the answer to saving the wizarding world…

Disclaimer: All characters and the HP universe at large belongs to JKR, we are only borrowing her characters to play with them.

Disclaimer 2: This is NOT MY STORY, it's a translation of Lilyanjudyth's original work written in Hungarian. I'm posting it here with her permission.

The story takes place after the OotP, it does not contain references to either HBP or DH.

The story will be a Severus-mentors-Harry fic, if you don't like this category of fanfic, don't even begin reading!

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO Prologue 

_The Minister of Magic makes a statement!_

_Our theories now confirmed as facts! _

_In the short interview that follows, we report the words we managed to exact from Minister Cornelius Fudge since the announcement he made last week. We hope this will answer a few of the questions arising about the epidemic._

"_Step aside, Miss! I've already told you that I'm not answering any questions."_

"_No, sir. The readers have the right to receive information. Various rumors are already spreading…"_

"_All right- all right, I will answer a few of your questions."_

"_Is it true, that the outbreak of the epidemic cannot be explained by the import of magical creatures into the country?"_

"_I'm sure both of us are aware, Ms. Skeeter, that that is simply unfounded gossip. You-Know-Who is the person responsible for the problem, as I've already let Dumbledore know at our meeting last week."_

"_I see. Could you explain to the readers about the symptoms of this mysterious disease?"_

"_All I can do is to reiterate the information we were given by the Healers of Saint Mungo: the first symptom is the uncontrollable trembling of the body, followed by terrible hallucinations, which finally end when the diseased collapses with a fever. As far as I know, the infected wizard cannot be recovered from this fever, which after a week causes complete exhaustion of the body."_

"_If a person contracts the disease, do they inevitably fall victim to it? That is to say, I've heard about cases when the last stage of the disease followed the onset of the first symptoms much later."_

"_Yes, there are such cases. But we do not have an explanation as to how and why the course of the disease deviates for these people."_

"…_and Minister, can you say anything about prospects for an antidote?_

"_I'm sorry, but I'm not in the position to say anything about that. I can only emphasize that if anyone notices signs of these symptoms, they should immediately visit Saint Mungo's."_

"_Could you tell us anything about the supposed serum You-Know-Who offered? Is it truly effective?"_

"_I don't have any more information about it than you do, it was but a few days ago that You-Know-Who revealed his terms and motivation to everyone."_

"_Could you tell us the number of deaths caused by the epidemic as of today?"_

"_I'm not in position to disclose that information."_

"_How about the number of people infected by the disease?"_

"_I cannot answer that either."_

"_My sources suggest that the highest number of cases were diagnosed at Hogwarts, and many parents have already removed their children from the location. Do you suppose that taking the life of Harry Potter was You-Know-Who's primary goal?"_

"_I absolutely cannot give information about issues concerning Hogwarts business. I suggest you ask the Headmaster."_

"_Minister, I have one more question, now that you mention it, is Dumbledore indeed abroad, searching for an antiserum?"_

"_My apologies, but I must go now…"_

_Naturally, with this information our dear readers can only guess about the true purpose of Voldemort's attack, however, one thing is certain…we will pursue these questions in our next issue._

Harry crushed the Daily Prophet in anger, and before his friends could prevent it, he tossed it into the flames of Hagrid's fireplace.

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer from the Prologue applies: All characters and the HP universe at large belong to JKR, we are only borrowing them for our entertainment. 

Disclaimer 2: This is NOT MY STORY, it's a translation of Lilyanjudyth's original work written in Hungarian. I'm posting it here with her permission.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Chapter 2: Friendless (part 1)

"Harry, what was that for?" Protested Hermione, but she didn't succeed in saving the paper from the fire. She turned back indignantly to face the boy. "I was planning on showing it to Hagrid as well!"

"Don' worry, 'Ermione. 'm not interested in them lies anyway." dismissed Hagrid with a shrug, as he poured a cup of tea for Harry. He carefully handed it over to the boy. "Ere, this will do ye good! It 'elps when yer tired."

Harry accepted it with a nod, and took a sip from the tea in an effort to keep himself awake. He didn't sleep well the night before. To tell the truth he didn't get a good night's rest for several months now. Never before did he suspect that his nightmares about Cedric's death would be joined by ones of Sirius. Perhaps this was what one got for suppressing all their grief, as Hermione always said.

"Would anyone else like some tea?" Harry heard Hagrid ask, only to be answered with fervent head shaking by his friends. "A'right. It's almost curfew, so ye have to leave soon anyhow."

Curfew again… Harry was utterly fed up with this 'martial law' system. So many people were sick at Hogwarts anyway, it didn't matter one whit where students spent their time. True, it would have been unfortunate if someone began exhibiting the symptoms without anyone around.

"I 'ear Ron, yer parents want to take ye outta school." continued Hagrid. Ron sighed deeply in response.

"Yes. They want me to go home. Though I think it's pointless," explained Ron. "I'd rather breathe my last in the hospital wing than in Saint Mungo's."

"Ron, how can you say such a thing?" interrupted Hermione. "You shouldn't be joking about this!"

"All right, fine." grinned Ron. "I won't joke about it anymore, I promise."

Meanwhile Harry finished his tea, and put the mug on the table. He leaned back tiredly, as a huge yawn cracked his jaws.

"You look terrible, Harry." commented Hagrid, when he got a chance to take a closer look at the boy. "Are ye sleepin' this bad?" Harry just shook his head dejectedly. "I thought so. Trust me, it'll get better with time."

Harry didn't react, just continued staring ahead silently. His friends observed him helplessly for a while, before saying goodbye to Hagrid, which got him moving as well. The half-giant assured them that he wouldn't be going anywhere the next day, and encouraged them to visit every day if they wished to.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Harry ran ahead of his friends. He didn't need to hear Hermione preach again about the foolishness of grieving this way. 

"Harry, wait up!" Hermione called after him, and a moment later she caught up with him. "I know it's really hard for you, but please don't turn away from us."

Meanwhile Ron stayed behind, and Harry was incredibly grateful that his friend didn't try to intervene in their quarrel. 

"You have no idea how it is," returned Harry dispassionately, "when the last relative you had dies, and to add to that you are the one to blame for their death… I think you have no clue just how it feels to find yourself in the Department of Mysteries every single night only to watch him fall through the veil again."

Harry stopped to look at Hermione.

"You're right. I don't." said the girl quietly. Then she placed a supportive hand on Harry's shoulder. "But look at yourself! You don't share anything with us anymore, and you lock yourself away in your bedroom on weekends. Do you think that will help?"

"No… no it won't." Harry admitted. "I thought it would be easier to pull through after Sirius' death. But it seems, I just can't manage to get over it. Give me a little more time, and I'll be fine. I promise." He even managed a weak smile for his friend. Hermione sighed. 

"Of course, Harry. I'm sorry." She said with feeling, as they continued their walk toward the castle. "Hurry up, Ron!"

They took another step, and a terrified call from Ron made them spin around. 

"Harry!" Ron looked at them alarmed, then back down at his hand, which was visibly shaking as he held it out in front of his chest. Harry stood frozen for a moment, before rushing to his friend's side, and grabbing his arm.

"Hermione!" He shouted at the girl, whose face was white as sheet. "Come, we got to get him to the infirmary fast!"

Hermione finally moved. She rushed to them and they set off hurriedly toward the main door, each putting an arm around Ron. 

"I thought I would have some more time…" said Ron in a trembling voice. Harry could feel as the strength of the tremors shaking his friend's body increased. "Soon I'll start flailing around madly, and hallucinating scary things, like spiders…no spiders, please!"

"Don't worry, everything will be all right, Ron."

"But it's not alright!" his friend shouted in panic. "I will go around the bend in a few minutes, and who knows when I'll wake up! Did this really have to happen to me?"

Harry tightened his already desperate grip on his friend, knowing that he was right. Ron would only wake up when an antidote has been found. Until then he would be lying unconscious and fevered, suffering and… Harry cut off that train of thought. No, he mustn't be thinking about such things.

They reached the hallway, and went on quickly toward the infirmary. Ron pursed his mouth into a thin line, and remained quiet for the rest of the way. Hermione was turning even paler as they walked. They came across a few people in the hallways, but it was so natural to see people hurrying toward the infirmary, that they didn't even take notice. 

By the time they reached the hospital wing, Harry could feel that his friend was barely on his feet. He grabbed the door handle with his free hand, and slammed it open with too much force as they hurried, hoping that Madam Pomfrey could give something to help Ron.

"I can hear the voices," mumbled Ron. "I never thought they would be so real… never hallucinated before."

"Madam Pomfrey!" Hermione called out, paying no attention to the number of patients already in the room.

Harry noticed a free bed on one side. 

"Hermione, here!" He nodded indicating the empty bed.

While they carefully lowered Ron to the bed, Madam Pomfrey appeared as well.

"Miss, this is an infirmary full of sick people, you cannot just…" She stopped mid-sentence as soon as she noticed the incoherently mumbling boy. Stepping closer she placed a hand on his forehead. "When did he start exhibiting the symptoms?"

Hermione sat at the edge of the bed with tears in her eyes, holding Ron's hand. Harry was trying to collect his thoughts. 

"I'm not sure. Perhaps ten minutes ago." He answered quietly.

The mediwitch procured a vial, and she poured its contents down Ron's throat, who was beginning to thrash about on the bed.

"No, Harry…they are here! Run away, or they will attack you, aah!" shouted Ron reaching toward Harry, while Hermione tried to hold him down, but she was losing the fight. Harry swallowed taking a step back. He never imagined it could be this awful. 

"Calm down, Ron! Everything is all right, Harry is fine." Hermione's voice was shaking as she tried to get through to Ron.

"Mr. Potter, it would be better if you left now." Madam Pomfrey managed to interject. "It will take a while for the Calming Draught to become effective. Hopefully his temperature won't rise as fast this way."

Harry didn't move; he simply froze as he looked upon his best friend staring back at him with painfully distorted features. It was barely possible to recognize Ron behind the demented grimace.

"Mr. Potter! Get out, now!" Madam Pomfrey's commanding voice finally managed to get him into motion. Harry backed up to the door, and then spinning around he hastily left the infirmary. 

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

After leaving Hermione with Ron in the infirmary, Harry spent the rest of the evening hiding out in the owlery, in an attempt to clear his mind of the horrifying images of his delirious friend. He knew in theory that the time would come when his friend would succumb to the disease, but he wasn't prepared for it.

How could one prepare for something so final? Why couldn't he be the first to get it? Why couldn't he just get sick when the first student collapsed right beside him? Voldemort didn't want to leave it to chance. He wanted to see Harry among the first victims, but he didn't succeed, just like at the Ministry last year…

Late at night, after having skipped dinner, he quietly slipped into the boy's bedroom where almost everyone was asleep. Making as little noise as possible, he changed to prepare for the meager sleep he was likely to have that night. Just when he was going to open the curtains around his bed, he heard Neville inquire:

"Where were you, Harry?"

"I went away to think a bit." He whispered in answer, not even turning around. As he climbed into bed, gripping the edge of the curtain in his fist, he managed to ask: "How is Ron doing?"

"Not very well." whispered Neville. "His fever went up, and judging by the things he mumbles, he must be having terrible dreams. Professor Snape prepared some potion, which can slow the progress of the disease by weeks, to avoid… well."

Neville stammered, but he didn't need to complete the sentence, it was clear to Harry what he meant.

"But Neville, I thought high fever was bad on its own." choked out Harry.

"I think the potion lowers the fever as well. But the people don't wake up; they simply remain unconscious. I think I heard it was similar to a coma. Maybe it is a coma, I'm not sure, I don't know enough about it. But Snape and the Healers at Saint Mungo's bring the patients to this state to stabilize them."

"Aha." said Harry silently. He was sick of this whole situation; sick of just waiting that maybe someone will find an antidote. "Sorry Neville, but I would like to go to sleep now."

"Of course, Harry. Good night."

"To you, too."

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooO


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer from the Prologue applies: All characters and the HP universe at large belong to JKR, we are only borrowing them fo

Disclaimer from the Prologue applies: All characters and the HP universe at large belong to JKR, we are only borrowing them for our entertainment.

Disclaimer 2: This is NOT MY STORY, it's a translation of Lilyanjudyth's original work written in Hungarian. I'm posting it here with her permission.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Chapter 3: Friendless part 2

The following morning Harry sat melancholically, pushing the bacon around on his breakfast plate. He didn't even need to feel embarrassed about playing with his food, since there was no one around to witness his activity.

The Great Hall echoed with emptiness, as most children were removed from the school by their parents. It was just a question of time when the remaining few would leave for their homes as well. The walls of the infirmary needed to be altered with a strong expanding charm in order to accommodate the unusually large number of patients.

"Harry!" A voice called directly above his head, prompting him to look up to its owner.

Hermione, with a dozen books in her arms, was looking down at him disapprovingly.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

"No, I don't think so… oh no!" groaned Harry miserably. "I completely forgot about the detention."

"Then I recommend you hurry. You're already late."

Harry jumped up from his seat, and grabbed the books Hermione handed to him.

"Have you been to the infirmary today?" he asked the girl before leaving.

"Yes, I have." said Hermione sadly. "There is no change, but it looks like he is sleeping peacefully at last."

Harry's heart wrenched at hearing his friend's defeated voice. Putting down his books on a chair, he stepped close to hug the girl tightly.

"Everything will be okay. They will all get better...soon someone will find a good antiserum and everything will be all right." said Harry to console the sobbing girl.

They stood there for a few minutes just holding onto each other, then Hermione let him go, looking up with teary eyes.

"You should really go Harry, because I don't think Professor Snape is in a good mood."

"Of course, detention." grumbled Harry. "And you won't be there to help me out now."

Hermione smiled sadly as he handed Harry's books to him once more.

"See you at lunch."

"Sure." Harry smiled back weakly, and left to serve detention with Neville.

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

"You are late."

Harry didn't answer, just dropped his books on the bench and went to join Neville in his work. His skin prickled as he felt Snape's eyes following his every move, but he didn't care. Snape could take away as many points as he wanted, yet none of it mattered.

"Ten points for your tardiness, Mr. Potter." Added the Professor, before he moved on to occupy himself at his desk. Barely looking up he continued. "I hope you recognize the phase Mr. Longbottom is currently working on."

Harry bit his tongue to stifle the temptation for an angry retort. It wouldn't have achieved anything, besides losing the remaining points Gryffindor still had.

Neville's spoon halted as he glanced at Harry with a worried look.

"I heard you couldn't sleep yesterday night." whispered the boy quietly, but Harry was sure Snape heard it. How could he not? After all, bats do have excellent hearing. "You haven't slept in days, Harry. It's no good. We wouldn't even be here, if you were properly awake last time and hadn't accidentally picked the wrong root."

Harry had to clench his teeth again to hold back his temper. Shouting at Neville in front of Snape would be nearly as bad as exploding at the man himself.

"I know, and I apologize." He whispered back patiently. "I will try to rest more, as soon as this nightmare is over."

"You don't have to be sarcastic, Harry." Sighed Neville as he began stirring the potion counterclockwise. "If you don't tell someone, I swear I will drag you to Madam Pomfrey so she can potion you to sleep."

Harry glanced up at Snape, but the professor was focused on the two potions sitting on his desk. He could have sworn that the man was looking at him just a moment ago. Perhaps he was just too paranoid.

Before he could react to Neville's threat, the silence was interrupted by loud knocking on the door. Then the door swung open, as the visitor entered not even waiting for an answer. It was Seamus, and he seemed to have gone pale when he set an eye upon Harry.

"Mr. Finnigan, if you once more…" but Snape's tirade was interrupted before it could truly begin.

"Harry! I was told to find you wherever you were, and tell you…" breathed Seamus. "that Hermione…"

Icy terror spread through Harry, and the beetle he held in his hand dropped to the floor.

"What happened?" he asked with his voice breaking, since he already suspected the answer.

"Hermione is in the infirmary." Seamus finally blurted out. "She's in pretty bad shape."

Snape, having walked up to Seamus, chose exactly this moment to wrench the door out of the boy's hand, opening it wide.

"Pardon the interruption, but supposedly there is detention going on in this classroom, regardless of what happened elsewhere." bit out Snape. "When Mr. Potter completed his work, he will be allowed to visit the infirmary."

"Ye-yes." Seamus stammered as the professor towered over him. "Sorry for…barging in."

The potions master nodded sharply and literally slammed the door closed behind the boy.

"Don't you care that I would have wanted to go with him?" Harry couldn't resist letting go of his anger.

"I thought, Potter, that you, being intimately familiar with the disease, would realize that it serves no purpose to sit by your friend's bedside for hours on end." Snape replied evenly, and returned to his work.

Harry however didn't do so. He left his workbench with Neville, even as the boy shook his head to try to prevent Harry from getting into more trouble.

"Well, if _you _thought so…" Harry said snidely, and his hand was already reaching for the door-handle.

"Potter, if you leave this room, that will cost Gryffindor fifty points." He could hear Snape's warning from behind. Harry spun around with his lips pursed into a thin line. He watched Snape complete his measurement with care before placing the material to the side and looking up at him.

"Return to your desk, and finish your assignment."

"No."

Harry felt all the pain he accumulated in the past few days bubble to the surface, and for a moment he knew for certain that Snape would be the one to make him explode. He didn't even regret it.

"Did I hear that well, Potter?" Snape asked unmoving, but momentarily taken aback.

"Yes, you did." Harry responded, turning away again to open the door. "Bye."

He was already outside the classroom when he heard Snape heartlessly pronounce behind him:

"Fifty points from Gryffindor."

"You have no consideration whatsoever for anyone's feelings!" shouted Harry, but as he turned back to the classroom again, he found himself face to face with Snape. He didn't even hear the man walking up behind him.

"Oh really?" drawled Snape sarcastically. "When I make an attempt to prevent you from witnessing a terrible sight, you disregard my guidance and try to rush there to see Ms. Granger in an awful condition."

"You don't give a damn about anything, apart from forcing me to finish this rotten detention!" Harry continued at the same volume. "So let me go, because I'm losing my patience!"

The potions master's face assumed a completely closed off expression at this.

"Listen here, Potter!" Snape raised his voice as well. "I would gladly take another twenty points from Gryffindor for your cheek, but soon there won't remain any to subtract from. Perhaps you desire to serve a few more detentions this week?"

"I don't know what you are talking about, sir, because…" Harry pretended to have difficulty recalling something very obvious. "oh yeah, perhaps by next week school won't be in session, because everybody will get sick soon. You know your damned research is worth nothing! How will you take points when I won't be around anymore? Cause, just so you know, there aren't many Gryffindors remaining to take points from!"

With the escalating anger and desperation emanating from Harry, he also let loose a bout of accidental magic, which was followed by the sounds of crackling glass as every bottle and jar in the room shattered into tiny pieces. Harry panted as if he had run several miles, and Snape had to carefully mask his expression of shock at Harry's outburst.

The boy didn't wait until Snape could react, he turned away slamming the door ruthlessly behind his back.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooO


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer from the Prologue applies: All characters and the HP universe at large belong to JKR, we are only borrowing them for our entertainment.

Disclaimer 2: This is NOT MY STORY, it's a translation of Lilyanjudyth's original work written in Hungarian. I'm posting it here with her permission.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Chapter 4: No choice, Part 1

Normally the trip from the dungeons to the infirmary takes at least ten minutes, but Harry managed to make it in less than half that time, as he hurried to his friend's side.

When the infirmary came into view, he slowed down and opened the door, terrified of what would await him inside. He couldn't see the mediwitch anywhere around, only the multitude of seemingly peacefully sleeping patients. The eerie silence of the room was hard to bear, and his own heartbeat seemed to echo off of the walls as he walked down the narrow path left between the beds.

He anxiously searched the rows on both sides, constantly looking left and right, somehow sure his friends would be in adjacent beds. Seamus found him only a short while ago, so maybe Hermione would still be awake…

Harry nearly reached the end of the hall, when at last he came across Ron, and found Hermione lying on the bed right next to his. Walking warily closer, he tried to take in the sight of the girl, who appeared to have simply fallen asleep. Her hair was carefully arranged on the pillow, and her face looked perfectly serene in spite of the fine sheen of perspiration visible on her forehead.

He was just about to settle down at her side, when a surprised voice called behind his back.

"You should not be here."

Turning around Harry saw Madam Pomfrey carry in a tray of potions and place it on a nearby table.

"But you sent for me, to tell me that Hermione got sick." whispered Harry, looking back at the girl, as if to confirm her presence.

"True," admitted the mediwitch. "but honestly I didn't expect you to come here until later."

"I would like to stay," choked out the boy, with his eyes fixed on his friends' unmoving bodies. A moment later he felt a hand squeeze his shoulder in support. "May I?"

"Of course, Mr. Potter. But not for too long." With that she returned to her tray, and lifting it in her hands once more, commented. "There is a chance that you will get sick as well, perhaps it would be best if you spent this period of time with your family, your loved ones."

Harry didn't feel like responding to that, thinking that Madam Pomfrey really couldn't know much about him. Indeed the mediwitch did not pursue her point, and she was gone within a few moments, leaving him alone in the secluded corner of the infirmary. He could feel his knees going weak as realization struck: he was alone and his friends wouldn't wake up anytime soon. Collapsing against the bed Hermione was laid out on, he kneeled whispering to his friend.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione. I didn't mean to turn away from you and Ron…I simply didn't know how to deal with Sirius being gone."

Harry reached out carefully to smooth a palm against the girl's face.

"Please forgive me," he whimpered as his eyes tingled from unshed tears. Leaning his forehead against his arms he tried to cry, tried to relieve the sorrow overwhelming him, but no relief came. He just lay there with his face pressed against the crisp sheets covering the mattress, and all he could do was to dream of a better future.

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"I already told you Horatius, that it is not effective."

"Then perhaps you should add more of the pixie claws, and stir it counterclockwise once it reaches the third phase."

"Do you believe I'm fooling around here? I tried all possible derivatives! The potion is simply not working, and that's the end of it. This entire project is a dead end. But I'm wasting my time trying to explain that to you, am I not? After all, you only believe your own potions masters."

Harry, woken by the progressively louder voices, drowsily lifted his head off the mattress. Looking around didn't help much with identifying the source of the noise, since he couldn't see anything. He must have fallen asleep quite a while ago, as it appeared to be nighttime already. He yawned and returned to his earlier position. Judging by how sleepy he felt, Harry concluded that he could not have slept enough, yet. Fully intending to return to his rest, even the ruckus in the background seemed insignificant.

Regardless he listened; after all it is only proper to keep quiet in an infirmary full of sick people, and no one could blame him for overhearing things when they were spoken so loudly.

"Of course I trust your judgment, Severus. But this is simply impossible."

"Not any less possible than this whole nightmare of a situation is."

Harry stayed frozen in place, trying to avoid calling attention to his eavesdropping.

"All right, let us assume you were correct…"

"It is high time you did that."

"…and this serum is truly worthless. In that case we will immediately begin testing the second line of potions with the powdered bicorn horn base. I will talk to you tomorrow night."

"Certainly."

Then all he could hear was the sound of footsteps as one of the people left the room, but they were soon replaced with silence occasionally broken by the whisper of a turned page. Harry couldn't bring himself to care that the person reading in a hidden corner of the infirmary was in all likelihood Snape. As long as he was left to sleep, even if only in this half-sitting position, nothing bothered him.

Minutes passed and no one came to call Harry on being there without permission, so the boy slowly allowed sleep to claim him again.

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He was still so tired that he couldn't even comprehend what woke him at first. But as he began to fully awaken, Harry felt a hand touching his neck and then moving on to his forehead.

"There is no reason to worry, Minerva. It appears Potter is completely unharmed, he was simply taking his afternoon nap here." Harry's eyes snapped open at hearing the all-too-familiar drawl so near his ears, and he found himself face to face with Snape, just as the professor's mouth pulled itself into its characteristic sneer. "Good evening, Mr. Potter."

"Next time if you would avoid scaring us to death!" Professor McGonnagall snapped out as she stood stiff-lipped behind Snape. "You could at least let someone know when you plan to disappear for a whole day!"

The potions master, who had been crouching next to Harry, stood up and in the same smooth motion straightened his robe.

"Potter makes a habit of disregarding the rules. But really, you should have gotten used to it by now, Minerva."

Harry pressed an awkward hand under his glasses to rub at his eyes, and then rose hesitantly reaching out to grab the edge of the bed for support.

"Sorry, Professor. I was very sleepy, and completely lost track of time" he addressed McGonnagall hoarsely, while attempting to look remorseful. Professor Snape nailed him with a doubtful frown, as if he expected Harry to fall ill any moment just to flaunt the rules and be a nuisance in general.

McGonnagall on the other hand was still fuming like an irritated dragon. Drawing a few more deep breaths she seemed to have managed to calm herself.

"Mr. Potter, it's time that you begin thinking about where you want to be going in a few days."

Harry was taken aback by the sudden shift in topic.

"Why Professor? They aren't going to…they can't…" He came to a halt as he realized that with the number of students sick, it was very probable that he would need to leave Hogwarts along with everyone else.

"They will, Mr. Potter. In a few days Hogwarts will most likely close."

"But the Headmaster, he surely won't allow that!"

Snape stepped forward, pulling his robe around himself with a firm move.

"The Headmaster is currently abroad, and he instructed the deputy headmistress to close the school, once the situation calls for it."

"Professor McGonnagall!" interrupted Harry frantically, not even caring to excuse himself, "I can't go back to the Dursleys!"

"Well, well," continued Snape, "the famous Potter is too good even for his relatives."

Harry paid no attention to the man, in favor of giving a pleading look to the deputy headmistress. Instead of the expected look of consternation, McGonnagall's face reflected sympathy.

"I am aware, Mr. Potter," she sighed. "That is why I'm suggesting that you begin thinking about getting ready to leave for the Headquarters."

Harry felt like screaming into her face that if it was up to him, he would never ever step a foot into that accursed building again. Instead bowing his head, he whispered.

"I wouldn't like to go there either."

"Well, that leaves us with a bit of a problem," contemplated McGonnagall. "If you don't want to return there either, and you cannot in the current situation go to the Burrow, there remains only one option."

Harry looked at the deputy headmistress questioningly, but he sensed from McGonnagall's tone that he would not like the answer.

"What is that option?"

"You could stay here at Hogwarts with adult supervision," she announced, while Snape looked between them blankly, waiting for the final outcome of the conversation. "I believe Professor Snape is the only person who will be staying here every day, to work on the development of the antiserum. You will be safe with him."

Snape reacted instantaneously, shifting to glare at McGonnagall with his indignation evident in his expression.

"What!?" snapped Harry and Snape simultaneously.

"The Headmaster recommended this solution, anticipating Harry's situation." McGonnagall managed to hold back a smile; nonetheless she did seem to be the only one enjoying the situation. "Harry cannot go home, and you, Severus, are here every day to use the labs."

Harry clenched his hands into fists and straightened out challengingly.

"This was approved by the Headmaster?"

"And Albus meant this seriously?" asked Snape at the same time.

"Indeed," nodded the headmistress, giving the potions master a meaningful look, who, after carefully schooling his expression, responded with a silent nod of his own. Harry really wanted to know what persuaded him so easily. "And now, if you will excuse me, I have some paperwork awaiting."

The deputy headmistress turned around to go, and shut the door quietly leaving them alone. Harry felt his heartbeat quicken in terror, like a hunted animal, he had no way of escaping the trap.

As for Snape, he didn't appear to be angry any longer, instead it seemed like he found the situation entertaining.

"Does this…" swallowed Harry nervously, trying valiantly to form an intelligible sentence. "I mean, staying with you, does that mean, well...am I supposed to move to your place now?"

"Right in one, Potter," came the cold response from Snape. Then he began walking toward the infirmary storage room, continuing over his shoulder. "I expect you before dinner, promptly at seven o'clock. Bring all your possessions, and wait outside my door."

Harry could nearly feel smoke coming out of his ears as he fumed.

"I don't even know where you live, sir," he snarled. "And in any case, I'm sure that dinner will still be held in the Great Hall tonight."

The potions master turned back from the door to the storage room.

"The nearest door to the painting depicting the execution of Salazar Slytherin leads to my chambers. And, yes, there will be dinner served in the Great Hall. Suddenly his face took on a decidedly satisfied expression. "But I desire your presence at _my_ dinner table."

With that he turned and slammed the door behind himself. Harry paled and swallowed nervously, as suddenly pictures of his outburst of less than a day ago flooded his mind. He had virtually exploded all the potions Snape used to store in his office, and the professor didn't even mention that. He was probably saving his tirade for dinner today, along with detentions or some other form of punishment to get even for the damage Harry had done to his personal stores.

It was popularly believed at Hogwarts, that the hallway of the dungeons holding the portrait of Slytherin's death, was the scariest one of all. No one ever ventured there, not even the twins. Apparently it wasn't an unfounded myth: Snape lived there after all.

At least now he would get to put his Gryffindor courage to the test.

Turning back to Hermione, he decided that he might as well go to Gryffindor to pack his things. He saw no reason to fight McGonnagall's decision. After all, staying at Hogwarts was far better than returning to the Dursleys, even if it involved Snape.

Taking one last look at his friends, Harry left the infirmary quietly.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooO


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer from the Prologue applies: All characters and the HP universe belong to JKR, we are only borrowing them for our entertainment.

Disclaimer 2: This is NOT MY STORY, it's a translation of Lilyanjudyth's original work written in Hungarian. I'm posting it here with her permission.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Chapter 5: No choice, Part 2

"You must be kidding! Right, Harry?" Neville exclaimed surprised.

The boy in question was in the process of collecting his dirty socks from the floor around his bed and tossing them into his trunk with disgust. Once all the socks in visible range were gathered in such manner, Harry turned to a chest of drawers by his bed only to pull out a few sweaters and shirts and send them flying by way of his footwear.

"Unfortunately it's for real. I will have to stay with the bat," grumbled Harry, before looking up. "Do you think I like it?"

Neville sighed as he sat back on his bed to watch Harry as he attempted to squeeze in his favorite books on top of the messy bundle of clothes in the trunk.

"Well, I suppose your other options must be very bad, if you decided to stay here with Snape instead."

"My relatives, the Dursleys." Summarized Harry in a short sentence, revulsion written all over his stance.

"Oh…I guess I suspected." Said Neville without meeting the boy's eyes.

In lack of a good response to that Harry returned to his packing, searching the room for anything that he might have missed. Finding nothing else that belonged to him, he shut the lid of the trunk pushing on it to get the latches closed.

"Well, I need to go now," he said despondently. "I hope Snape will allow me to meet you every day. You are staying for a while longer, right?"

"I'm not sure, Harry. Granny may be coming for me soon," came the apologetic response, followed closely by a weak smile. "If you would like, I could come and visit Hagrid with you tomorrow."

"Yes, that would be great."

Thinking of Hagrid only served to remind Harry that the last time he visited him was with Ron and Hermione, and now his friends couldn't come anymore. Glancing at Ron's stripped bed, Harry spelled his trunk to levitate behind him and left the room without looking back.

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Having spent at least ten minutes searching for the specific painting Snape instructed him to wait by, Harry was still wandering up and down the dungeon hallways with no clue about its location. He found portraits depicting a range of events in Slytherin's life, from the man's wedding to his potions lab, but not one of his death. Truth be told, he didn't search the entirety of the deepest dungeons, yet. It would be just like Snape, to hide his chambers at the end of the darkest hallway.

Harry's intuition proved correct when after a few minutes of walking deeper-and-deeper into the dungeons he came across the ghastly picture. In the proximity of the picture stood an ancient door. Harry canceled the levitation spell and hovered his trunk to the floor. He sat on it, preparing himself for a lengthy wait.

Not much time passed when he heard steps resounding off the walls, and soon he could see the dark silhouette of the potions master approaching at a steady pace. Upon arriving to the door, Snape gave a satisfied smirk.

"I see you managed to find your way here, Potter." He said as he motioned for Harry to stand up. "My apologies for being late; Healer Horatius held me up longer than expected."

Harry stared soundlessly, while the professor took down the wards and opened the door. Snape didn't enter, but gestured to Harry that he should go ahead. The man followed close behind, and Harry could hear as his teacher began resetting the wards. However he didn't pay much attention, as he was focused on taking in the sight of the room before him.

The place appeared unexpectedly cozy, decorated by warm shades of brown. The room, which was probably the living room, had a fireplace on the left, facing it stood a couple of armchairs and a sofa arranged around a table with a stack of notes on it. To his right stood a dining table with chairs surrounding it, the setup dominated by a huge, intricately crafted candleholder standing at the center of the table.

A short hallway opened from the wall facing him, where Harry could see a few doors, one presumably leading to Snape's room.

"I will show you to your room," announced Snape when he finished warding the door.

He walked down the short hallway with Harry in tow, and stopped in front of the second door. The professor opened the door, and indicated that Harry should enter.

The small room resembled the parlor in style: a chest of drawers, a desk and chair, and a bed with a nightstand - all matching colors of brown - were arranged along the walls. The desk stood under a small window that appeared to open right above the ground. Harry registered this with surprise, and realized that Snape's rooms were probably located in the dungeons carved into the rocky cliff under the southern part of the castle.

"I trust you find it adequate." Snape queried snidely, observing Harry closely for any hint of disapproval.

"Of course…" responded the boy quietly. He didn't want to admit to Snape that he never had a proper room of his own before. Even when his relatives gave him one, it was with broken shelves and an uncomfortable bed that had a thin, tattered mattress.

"In that case, leave your trunk here and join me for dinner," commanded the professor, spinning around and disappearing with his cloak billowing behind.

Harry hovered his trunk right next to the bed, and taking another look around the room –_his_ room- he left to follow Snape. Reaching the living room he was surprised to see that the previously empty dining table was now loaded with food.

Harry looked at the selection of dishes, before hesitantly walking over to take his seat facing Snape, where a set of cutlery was laid out for him. He was about to reach for his spoon, when a smooth albeit alien voice interrupted.

"Oh, the famous Harry Potter," the voice came directly from the table, making Harry withdraw his hand from the spoon. Snape served himself some of the delicious looking chicken potpie, not appearing disturbed in the least.

"Potter, this is Trenus," said the potions master indicating the large candle, which still sat in its ornate holder at the center of the dining table.

"Hmm, it's my pleasure…I guess," said Harry awkwardly, reaching for the serving spoon again. Looking down at his plate, he noticed with some annoyance that he wasn't given the choice to serve himself. With his eyes fixed on his meal he muttered irritated: "I think I'm old enough to serve myself, sir."

"Of course, Potter. I merely intended to give your meal a chance to cool while you were in your room," said Snape measuredly, but Harry could have sworn he could detect the snide undertones. "I found it too hot when the house elves sent it down."

That explained how the food appeared so fast, and Harry found himself suddenly thankful to Dobby, convinced that sending his favorite dish on his first evening with Snape was the elf's doing.

"I didn't believe you for a second, Severus," came the voice from the candle again. "I was sure he would never come here. And now!"

"We usually keep quiet while eating," remarked Snape pointedly between two bites. "I would appreciate if you respected that."

And indeed, it was quiet for a while. Harry just began pondering how he despised obnoxious, talking objects, such as the mirror in the boys' bathroom that never let a morning pass without commenting on Harry's deplorable taste in clothing and his "hideous mess of a mane". They destroyed all illusion children might have had about sentient household objects after reading _Beauty and the Beast_. It really wasn't Harry's fault that the Dursleys' never bought him a decent set of clothes. Of course the brainless mirror disapproved of Harry's favorite jumper as well, which was knitted just for him by Mrs. Weasley. Harry found that beyond annoying, in his book it was an outright insult.

"I have heard some rumors that both your friends are sick," the candle started again, apparently having forgotten Snape's request for silence. "If you go and visit Hagrid tomorrow, you better be careful because you may come next."

Harry couldn't let that go, as he felt his temper rising. "Shut up, you smartarse chunk of wax!" he seethed.

"Disrespectful ape."

"At least I have…"

"I never get cold in winter, unlike you."

"That is enough, Trenus," interrupted Snape, and his hard tones promised nothing good.

"Irritating museum piece," grumbled Harry under his nose, just to have the last word.

"For your information, I'm a several-century-old invaluable object. Anyway, why don't you just go and stay at your uncle's?" Snape appeared to be just about ready to resort to more drastic means of separating the two of them, but at Trenus' question a curious, blank expression replaced his previously displayed anger.

Harry had enough, he felt sure that the candle would shut its non-existing mouth if it were aware how close he had come to causing it some serious harm. Truth be told, the wax-stick appeared to be stunningly well informed for a candle. Unfortunately for it, Harry was in no mood to appreciate that currently.

"Shut up!"

"Why?" Trenus kept going. "I'm simply interested if the gossip is true. Because I believe they must be terrible indeed, if you came he…" but it couldn't complete the sentence, as Harry grabbed up his glass and doused the candle in pumpkin juice putting out its flame with a sizzling noise.

"Are you happy now, brat?!" shouted the candle as it tried to light himself without success.

"Definitely," but the grin was wiped off of his face as Snape suddenly stood taking a deep breath. The potions master, placing both hands firmly on the table, leaned forward threateningly.

"Trenus, take yourself and disappear from the table, right now!" he shouted at the candle, extinguishing the flame that just flickered to life on the wick. "Go to the office, and stay there alone until we finish dinner, that way you can't tear at each other with Potter." Then he turned to Harry, who was about to rise from the table. "And _you_ are not going anywhere until you ate everything on your plate."

Frightened, Harry dropped back into his chair. Meanwhile Trenus floated away from the table toward one of the rooms opening from the hallway, and disappeared behind its door that had apparently been left ajar.

"But, I'm not hungry anymore, " protested Harry, as he took a look at the leftovers of his meal.

The potions master, calm again, lowered himself into his chair with dignity, and continued his dinner as if nothing had happened.

"Oh, but you will not be leaving this table until that plate is cleared."

Harry looked down at the remnants of his potpie once more, and he felt that if he tried to eat another bite, he would certainly get sick before swallowing it. And in any case, he hadn't been eating much for dinner in the past few weeks, and he was doing just fine.

"Please, sir, I don't want it," he tried again dejectedly, but it didn't seem to move Snape. "I would like to go to sleep," and with that he tried to leave, but he found himself unable to stand up. Wriggling around on his chair, Harry couldn't move an inch, even though a moment ago he was perfectly capable to stand and pour his juice on that damned talking candle.

"It's not fair!" snapped Harry, as he realized that Snape had been planning on forcing him to eat everything on his plate right from the beginning, when he insisted on serving what now seemed an unreasonably large portion for him. In all the commotion Harry hadn't even noticed the spell that Snape must have uttered to glue him to the chair. The professor carefully wiped his mouth with a napkin.

"I told you just a moment ago, Potter. You may stand once you finished your meal," he repeated snidely, rising from the table. "Well, I'm going to the lab to continue my experiments. When you are done, go straight to bed."

"But…"

The professor disappeared behind a different door, leaving Harry with the leftovers of his dinner. The boy eyed his plate without appetite, realizing that he hadn't even eaten half of it yet.

He could still move his arms, and after all Snape insisted that he cleared his plate… thought Harry as he slipped out his wand and pointed it at the meal.

"Evanesco," he whispered the spell trying to banish the unwanted food, but nothing happened. "Oh shite." Harry swore, and pocketing his wand he grabbed his fork.

With considerable effort he managed to force a few smaller bites down. Realizing that he would never finish at that rate, Harry downed the rest of the meal barely chewing it. He was sure he would get sick any moment, but somehow he managed to swallow the last forkful as well. When he tried to stand up again, he met no resistance. Turning from the table he went to his room swiftly, hoping that Snape wouldn't show up to gloat.

Closing the door quietly he took a few deep breaths to quell his nausea. It worked surprisingly well, and soon he was changed into pajamas and laying under the warm brown duvet pondering how nothing appeared to be green in Snape's rooms.

Harry was so exhausted that he fell asleep within minutes. Consequently he didn't notice as his door opened to allow a floating little flame to enter and settle above his nightstand in quiet watch.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer from the Prologue applies: All characters and the HP universe belong to JKR, we are only borrowing them for our entertainment.

Disclaimer 2: This is NOT MY STORY, it's a translation of Lilyanjudyth's original work written in Hungarian. I'm posting it here with her permission.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Chapter 6. Without hope, Part 1

In the morning Harry woke feeling incredibly drained. Standing up he felt so dizzy that he had to sit back down on the bed. His sleep was disturbed by the recurring dreams of Sirius' death, which were recently joined by nightmares of his friends as well. So he spent the night restlessly, haunted by loss, and in spite of the comfortable bed he found himself tossing and turning all night long.

Sighing deeply he attempted to stand up again, succeeding this time. Still slightly wobbly, Harry shuffled toward his trunk to find a set of clean and warm clothes, since the view from the tiny window promised a rainy day.

Dressing slowly, he was about to make his way to the kitchen when he heard voices from the hallway. He sidled closer to the door to try to pick up the whole conversation. Harry knew there would be hell to pay if he got caught, but he couldn't resist eavesdropping on Snape and his annoying talking wax-stick.

"So tell me, when did you stop trusting me?" he heard the candle ask resentfully.

"I did not say that. Regardless, it _is_ hard to believe. Ever since I've known him, Potter always ensured that he was at the center of attention. He's a spoilt brat, everyone's favorite little hero."

"Now I'm sure we are talking about two different people."

"You say that as if you knew the boy."

"I hear things…Have you seriously considered why he would chose to come here instead of going home to his family?"

"Would you enlighten me if I asked?" Snape's voice drawled sounding indifferent.

"No." _That candle had guts_, Harry thought smiling to himself, _no one said no to Snape like that._

"In that case, what point are you trying to make here?" the professor was becoming impatient.

"He will tell you, if he believes he can trust you." Harry smiled appreciatively; maybe the candle wasn't a complete waste of space after all.

"Was there anything else?"

"I'm not sure…to me it seemed the boy hasn't slept in weeks. Which is no wonder, with the nightmares he has." Harry's growing appreciation was immediately nipped in the bud; he fully intended to trample the wax spy. Banging open his door, he walked straight to the kitchen. The conversation ceased immediately, and he wasn't surprised to find his host sitting at the kitchen table with Trenus next to him.

The potions master held a piece of toast in his hand as he turned to Harry with a raised eyebrow.

"I thought you would never get up and deign to join us," he commented snidely.

Harry decided there was nothing to be won by revealing that he overheard their conversation.

"I've been awake for a while," he said coolly, turning to get his jacket. But Snape's voice halted him in his tracks.

"Just where do you think you are going, Potter?

"For my jacket," he returned sullenly. "Then to visit Hagrid. I promised I would visit him every day."

Snape finished chewing before giving Harry a stern look.

"First, you will have breakfast. Then you may visit you friend."

"I think you are not my father, so you can't tell me what to do out of school," spat out Harry and he tried to leave, but found himself unable to move, just like at dinner the day before.

"As I said, first you will eat something," repeated Snape. "Once you are done, perhaps I will allow you to roam the grounds for a while. Agreed?"

"Yes, sir," hissed Harry, and felt the spell holding him lift so suddenly that he was forced to take a step back to keep his balance. He walked to the table and morosely took the place that appeared to be reserved for him. His plate was empty this time, so he reached for a slice of toast and the jam. At least Snape didn't expect him to eat until he got sick today.

"Good morning, little master," greeted Trenus innocently.

Harry's head snapped up angrily, but he managed to contain his impulse to squash the treacherous chunk of spying wax. He was determined to keep quiet in the company of the two shifty, sneaky Slytherins.

"How did you sleep?" queried Snape after Harry polished off half of his toast in two bites.

"Well," ground out Harry, knowing full well that all of them were aware this was a lie. Harry wasn't going to interrupt the charade.

"Hmm," was all the response he got, as the potions master sipped from his coffee. "When we are done with breakfast I will go up to the infirmary to check on the patients. I recommend you go to Hagrid first, and visit your friends later. The healers from St. Mungo's perform their checkups in the morning, and I don't want you to be underfoot."

Harry looked up surprised from spreading jam on his second piece of toast.

"You will let me go?"

Snape responded with a raised eyebrow.

"Of course. And when you return from your visits, right there," Snape pointed at the coffee table by the fireplace "you will find at least five books on potions, and enough parchment to repeat your last three essays, which were so abominable that they didn't even deserve the Troll I had to give on them."

Harry jumped up suddenly, pushing his glass of pumpkin juice over, which fell with a clang pouring its contents all over the table.

"You are enjoying this!" he snapped. "There isn't a day that passes without you using every opportunity to mock me and deride me for everything I do."

"And I was restraining myself in consideration of your past few days," announced Snape evenly as if to himself, and finished up his coffee.

"Flood alarm…" interrupted the candle. "Would either of you bother to clean the table?"

Harry picked up his napkin and tossed it at Trenus.

"You can lift yourself, just like you did yesterday when you came to spy on me!" he continued furiously, addressing Snape. "What do you mean by the past few days?! You think I need special treatment? That I'm going to snap?"

"It wouldn't be surprising," replied Snape, while Trenus moved to the far edge of the table and settled on a dry spot. Harry was speechless at the open insult.

"Well, that's just brilliant! The famous Harry Potter went crazy without his followers. That's what you think, right?" after a strangled laugh Harry pushed in the chair with enough force to make all the utensils rattle on the table. "I'm leaving now. And before I visit Hagrid, I will be sure to research wards to prevent spies from entering my room."

Without waiting for Snape's response he ran to get his coat. On his way out Harry could hear them talking about him.

"That went well."

"Be quiet, Trenus."

Harry looked back over his shoulder at the duo before opening the door, which surprisingly wasn't locked, and he purposefully slammed it closed with a satisfying bang.

He hurried away toward Hagrid's hut, a tiny smile playing on his lips.

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

By the time he reached the gamekeeper's dwelling Harry was completely calm. The October weather with the daily rains softened the ground making it difficult to walk. It took Harry twice the usual time to reach the hut as he slipped and slid in the mud. The thick fog that settled above the ground this morning further complicated his task of finding stable footing, as he could barely see the tip of his nose in the white mist.

Arriving at the door he clumsily propped himself against the doorframe, and after knocking he tried to clean off the larger chunks of mud off his shoes.

Fang barked loudly from within, and in a few moments the door opened revealing Hagrid, who gestured for Harry to enter.

"Hullo Harry," came the melancholic greeting. "Come on in. Fast, or ya'll catch a cold in this godawful weather."

Harry stepped inside to allow Hagrid to close the door behind him. It was much warmer in the hut, and the room smelt of wet dog and caramelized sugar. Harry was about to sit down when Hagrid grabbed his shoulders to turn him around, and the boy found himself in a bone-crushing hug.

"Oh, 'arry. I thought ya'll come down sick by the morning too," said the half-giant punctuating his sentence by loud sniffs. "I heard 'bout Ron and 'Ermione… But Professor Snape and the healers will soon find the cure. I'm sure of it."

"I hope so," replied Harry uncertainly. "Is it okay that I came so early?" he asked with his words muffled by Hagrid's coat. The giant let go of him, and patted is back comfortingly.

"O' course. I just put some water over the fire for tea, and there are some cakes 'ere too," said Hagrid pulling out his tablecloth-size dotted handkerchief to wipe his eyes.

Harry sat down in his favorite, gigantic armchair and waited for Hagrid to pour tea from the whistling kettle. Soon he had a steaming cup of tea and a plateful of rock cakes in front of him.

"Thanks Hagrid," he whispered, taking the cup of tea in his hands.

"I'm sorry, Harry, but you won't be able to stay for long," said the half-giant. "The Headmaster gave me a special assignment, and I have to start working on it soon."

Harry simply shrugged.

"It's okay…I can't stay for long anyway."

"Ye know, I heard that you are stayin' with Professor Snape," said Hagrid with a grin. "They told us yesterday, at the meeting."

"Brilliant," grumbled Harry. "So I'm the topic at the order meetings, too."

Hagrid looked away, and took a piece of cake from the plate.

"Not always. But in this dangerous situation your protection is very important," Hagrid stopped suddenly. "Well, that is to say…just forget about it 'arry. But keep in mind, Snape is not as bad as he seems in yer classes."

Harry didn't say anything to that, just continued sipping his tea.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

All things considered, living in the dungeons wasn't all that terrible, apart from the ever-increasing amount of schoolwork that awaited him every afternoon. He hardly ever met Snape outside of mealtimes, but the annoying Trenus stayed with Harry constantly. It even helped with homework on occasion.

Soon it was November, and Harry realized with some surprise that at some point he began to think about the dark dungeons as his home. And Snape…well, Snape was okay. But Harry ascribed it to the fact that the potions master appeared so tired every evening, that in all likelihood he didn't have enough energy left to mock Harry.

Harry visited Hagrid every morning, and usually had breakfast with him. Then he was off to the infirmary to visit his friends. His afternoons were spent with schoolwork, and the evenings with reading by the fireplace.

At the moment he was curled up in one of the armchairs with a book, and he waited for Snape to arrive so they could have dinner. Harry noted with some consternation that he was beginning to miss his teacher's snide comments. In fact it was disturbing that Snape hadn't snarled at him lately.

He hadn't even seen the potions master today; apart from glimpsing him in his lab this afternoon, but then the professor closed the door. And it was past seven, so Snape was supposed to have returned for dinner.

A loud crash interrupted Harry's thoughts.

He almost dropped his book, as the crash was followed by a series of smaller crunching noises. Even Trenus jumped aside at the sudden noise.

"What was that?" breathed Harry, with his adrenalin levels soaring.

"I think it came from the lab," stated Trenus as he floated further down the table to make space for Harry's book.

"I will go and check," said Harry determined, and placing his book on the table he moved to stand.

"I think you should stay here."

But Harry wasn't listening to Trenus any longer and he hurried down the small hallway to the door, which he suspected opened to the lab. Cracking the door open to peek in, he caught sight of a shocking view. All of Snape's cauldrons were tipped to the floor, and he watched as the professor swept the remaining bottles to the ground with one motion. Then the potions master just stood there surrounded by shards of glass and mixed potions ingredients with his back toward the door. He grabbed the back of a chair with both hands, leaning against it heavily. Then taking a few deep breaths the man appeared to calm himself.

"What do you want, Potter?" he asked in a deep, cool voice.

Harry swallowed nervously as he shrunk down hoping to become invisible.

"I just…I got scared when I heard…something breaking," he stammered. "Professor…did something happen?"

Snape stood quietly for a while, then without turning he spoke.

"The epidemic took its first casualties."

Suddenly Harry couldn't breathe; he backed up to the wall and leaned against it.

"Who died?" he asked quietly, afraid of the answer. Snape turned around to face Harry.

"You don't know them. Three adults who were among the first infected in Diagon Alley," he said leaning against the table.

"Oh no…but that means that after a while, all of them…" groaned Harry not finishing his sentence.

The potions master stood observing him, and then walked up to Harry and took hold of his shoulders.

"Listen to me, Potter! Those people simply had a weaker immune system, therefore their bodies reacted differently to the temporary serum, than it was supposed to!" he said with emphasis, then added quietly: "Your friends reacted well to it, they will be all right."

Harry looked up sadly.

"You don't have to say that," he said. "I'm not a little kid anymore, you don't have to hide the truth from me." Then looking closer at his teacher's face he realized something else. "You are not telling me something."

Snape let go of his shoulders and arranged his robes tighter as he straightened up.

"True," he admitted, and then he took a deep breath as if in preparation to announce something terrible. "I was recently notified that Longbottom and Finnigan were taken ill as well."

"Oh no…" breathed Harry and he could feel his knees going weak as dizziness overtook him at hearing Snape's statement. "Why didn't you tell me immediately?"

The potions master grabbed is upper arm to steady the boy.

"Perhaps because I wanted to protect you from the news."

"Very touching," grumbled Harry as he tried to free his arm from Snape's grip, but the professor wouldn't let go. "Let me go! I'm fine."

"I doubt that," said Snape and he began to lead Harry toward the boy's room. "After the past few weeks I'm honestly surprised you are holding up at all. And now, whether you like it or not I will put you to bed."

Harry stopped protesting: Snape was stronger than him anyway, and he didn't feel up for a fight at the moment. The professor led him to his bed, and covered him after he lay down.

"You don't have to treat me like I'm a little kid," Harry turned toward the wall in protestation, as Snape sat down on the edge of his bed. The whole situation was so embarrassing and so unlike Snape that Harry was momentarily shocked into silence.

"I'm treating you as if you experienced a series of terrible events in a very short time period," said the professor coolly as he took out his wand. Harry continued staring at the wall miserably, holding his blanket in a death grip.

"Why not me?" he whispered. "I should be sick already…but no, I always have to survive and watch as everyone I care about dies…"

"Harry!" snapped Snape loudly, which made the boy turn back surprised. "Stop this self-condemnation at once! You cannot possibly be responsible for everything bad that happens to your friends. Believing that is incredibly egotistic." Then he pointed his wand toward the door and called out: "_Accio_ Dreamless Sleep potion!"

"No. I'm not willing to drink that," protested the boy. The potions master simply raised an eyebrow and caught the potion bottle flying into the room.

"Really?" he asked threateningly. "Then I will cast _Petrificus_ on you, and pour it down your throat. Your choice."

"I don't want either!" said Harry turning back toward the wall again. "I can sleep just fine, if you would only leave me alone!"

"You need some restful sleep. I've stood by for the last few weeks, and waited for you to come and ask for help with your dreams. But no, why would you," argued Snape. "It's high time you had a proper night's sleep."

"You know, it doesn't become you to act as if you cared," mocked Harry sharply, hoping to distract the professor.

"Even so, you are living with me and I'm responsible for your well-being. Therefore you are going to follow my advice!" retorted Snape holding out the bottle. "Drink it!"

"No."

Harry didn't have too many disturbing dreams lately, and he fully intended to remain alert in case something happened, in case he needed to wake up during the night.

"All right then," continued Snape unfazed, and with a wave of his wand Harry found himself sitting up. The professor pushed the bottle into his hands, and giving him a stern look he commanded. "Drink up! All of it."

Harry took the bottle unwillingly, and after two gulps he could feel his head getting heavy.

"All of it. To the last drop," came the stern order, and Harry managed to stay awake long enough to swallow a few more times. A moment later he could feel through a haze that the professor took the bottle from his hand, and after gently lowering him back into bed he tucked the blanket around Harry's shoulders.

Before Harry passed out completely, he thought he heard Snape whisper.

"Trenus, please spend the night watching over him. If anything happens, I will be in the lab."

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Reviews are appreciated. I'm particulary interested in improving my English...which is hard without constructive criticism.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer from the Prologue applies: All characters and the HP universe belong to JKR, we are only borrowing them for our entertainment.

Disclaimer 2: This is NOT MY STORY, it's a translation of Lilyanjudyth's original work written in Hungarian. I'm posting it here with her permission.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Chapter 7. Without hope, Part 2

Waking well-rested seemed a novel experience to Harry. He could barely recall the last time he slept through the night uninterrupted. Surveying the room drowsily with half-open eyes he glimpsed Trenus right next to his bed on the nightstand.

"Good morning, young master," greeted the candle.

"Good morning…" came the dazed response. Harry did feel rested, but at the same time he was also incredibly sleepy. "What time is it?"

"If I'm not mistaken, it's just a few minutes past noon."

Harry suddenly jumped out of bed.

"What, noon already?" Taking account of his clothing he realized that he was still wearing his outfit from the day before. "I need to wash up fast, I can't go down to Hagrid like this." He wasn't concerned so much about his looks; rather about Hagrid getting worried if he saw him looking so disheveled.

"Hey, calm down!" Trenus tried to interrupt, before the boy worked himself into a panic. "Severus already let Hagrid know that you weren't going for a visit today."

That got Harry to stop halfway to the shower with his towel in hand.

"What?" he exclaimed shocked. "I don't believe it! Snape wants to keep me from all my friends? Lock me up with nothing but homework for company?"

Trenus stopped on his way to the door, and moved to float right in front of the boy.

"No, not at all. He simply arranged for you to get some rest," he lifted to eye-level and continued earnestly. "Don't you see? Severus is concerned about your well-being, with everything that's happened."

This appeared to incense the boy even further.

"_My_ well-being? But I'm completely healthy, unlike most people around!" he snapped. The candle floated threateningly close to his face.

"Of course you are," said Trenus in an overtly patronizing tone, before turning serious. "Not sleeping and nightmares every night is not exactly a sign of coping. So stop searching for evil intent, and appreciate a good night's rest for what it was!"

"Just leave me alone!" replied Harry somewhat deflated, and shutting the bathroom door firmly he left the exasperating Trenus hanging in mid-air.

After showering he returned to his room to find the candle still where he left it.

"Don't you have anything to do?"

"As a candle, what do you think?" retorted Trenus unmoved. "Severus says, that once you are up, you are to meet him in the lab. He will be there waiting for you."

Harry, muttering something unintelligible under his nose, picked up a thicker sweater and walked over to the lab.

He found Snape standing by his workbench like the day before, though the ruins surrounding him have been cleaned up. The potions master held up two vials, intently observing them by the torchlight.

"Good morning," he greeted, lifting up his eyes to look at the boy.

"Not anymore, thanks to you," grumbled Harry, and walked over to sit on one of the chairs lined up along the wall. The desk was covered with a seemingly disordered pile of encyclopedias and unrolled scrolls of parchment. Snape returned his attention to the vials, and tipped them simultaneously into a cauldron, stepping back to avoid the fumes.

"Are you feeling unwell?"

Harry lifted heavy lidded eyes.

"No," he mumbled. "Just terribly sleepy."

A self-satisfied smirk settled on the potions master's face.

"That may be a side-effect of a slight overdose of the Dreamless Sleep potion," he announced haughtily. Then covering the cauldron he walked closer to the boy and stopped in front of him. Leaning back against the edge of the desk he observed Harry intently. "Would you care to elaborate a bit more?"

The boy glared at him accusingly.

"What kind of questions are these?" he snapped. "I'm perfectly fine! My hands aren't shaking, I have no fever, and I'm not hallucinating either. No trace of the symptoms. I'm not sick at all!"

Snape raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"You forgot to mention your nightmares."

"Because it's nobody's business that I keep dreaming about…" Harry shut his mouth before accidentally slipping up. He absently noted that the drowsiness wasn't helping his self-control any.

"No, they are not my business. But the fact that you are suffering from them is. Do you agree?" the professor continued unrelenting. "I admit I may have misjudged you. You aren't the attention-seeking brat I thought you were. But there are situations in which one should accept the help offered."

Harry stared at Snape in stunned silence.

"It's fine. I've always been like this," he said defensively, casting his eyes at the floor, unable to face the man in front of him. "It's just that people don't notice."

"Perhaps," acknowledged Snape letting go of the table. He nodded for Harry to stand. "Come, I need to examine you closer."

Harry stood hesitating for a moment, and then taking a step he stopped in front of the potions master.

"You mean, to find out why I'm not sick?" he asked curiously, but Snape just nodded. He cupped the boy's face turning his head toward the light as he observed him with narrowed eyes.

"You are not even pale," he stated with some surprise. Then holding Harry's eyelids open he incanted a _Lumos_ and proceeded to point his wand at the boy's eyes. "I don't see any sign of the infection."

"But I was there when the first student at Hogwarts got sick," Harry responded quietly.

"I know," the professor continued by carefully palpating the lymph nodes on the boy's neck, and Harry began to suspect that the potions master was not unfamiliar with the job of a healer. "Hold out your hands."

He obediently extended them, but there weren't even the faintest tremors to be seen.

"Sir, what does this mean?" asked Harry after a short while, because his hands were getting tired. "Why am I not sick?"

"I'm not sure. Let me test one more thing," said Snape stepping up to the other workbench. "Come here."

Harry complied taking a few steps, but stopped when he saw the needle in the potions master's hand.

"I will need a few drops of your blood," informed the man raising his eyebrows in question. "It won't hurt."

The boy looked at him accusingly closing the distance between them.

"I know, just startled me is all…I'm not particularly fond of needles. Oi!" he cried out when Snape pricked his skin and applied pressure to collect a few drops of blood in a glass vial. "It won't hurt…yeah, right."

"You have pulled through far worse things than this, uncomplaining I might add," sighed the professor. "Did you not?"

"I have the annoying feeling that this wasn't the last time I will hear that from you," yawned Harry as he watched Snape carefully add a drop of the blood to a bubbling cauldron. Then the professor turned away to place the vial onto the neighboring desk. Harry stepped up to the cauldron curiously to get a better view of the potion. The viscous liquid appeared unchanged at first, then it began to froth and bubble violently.

"Sir, is it supposed to do that?"

"Potter, watch out!" exclaimed Snape and he grabbed Harry by the arm forcing him to duck, as he pulled him along to the distant wall shielding the boy with his body.

They arrived just in time. The potion exploded with a deafening boom spraying all the way to the ceiling, and Harry could feel the hot pressure on his eardrums as the gases from the concoction filled up the room.

A moment later Snape let go of him and they both turned around to survey the room. The potions master drew in a sharp breath as he took in the extent of the damage.

"Professor…sir why did it do that?" choked out Harry, terrified. It didn't take much to realize that his blood caused the explosion.

The potions master walked closer to examine the cauldron, levitating it up for a better view he replied evenly:

"Something in your blood reacted with the potion…whatever it was."

Harry swallowed nervously in response.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Days passed, and Snape still didn't have an explanation for what happened in the lab, at least not one he was willing to share. The professor did warn Harry not to take any detours when returning from his daily visits to Hagrid, saying it was dangerous for him to be wandering around alone.

Every time Harry brought up the question of his mysterious immunity to the disease, the potions master religiously avoided answering. Harry found it terribly suspicious that the events in the lab coincided with the professor's sudden insistence that he should not spend any time alone. He quickly deduced that someone was out for his blood, in this case literally.

This was the main reason for his unusual obedience to Snape. In fact he was walking back from Hagrid's hut with his wand drawn, ready to cast a _Protego_ if necessary. Having used the moving staircases to descend to the dungeons, Harry was making his way toward his room when he heard a strange noise…like someone flushing the toilet. Except it was becoming louder, soon resembling the sound of a waterfall.

Harry stood alarmed, looking toward the end of the hallway where the sound appeared to be coming from. A moment later he could see the source of the rumble. It was definitely not a flooding toilet: the water gushing in at the end of the hallway was at least a foot deep and rapidly rising.

This was enough to get Harry into motion, and he took off toward the other end of the corridor. Looking back he could see more and more water streaming in, and he wondered where it could be coming from. Certainly not the plumbing, it was simply too much for that. The lake was a possibility, and he fleetingly considered the depth of the Hogwarts dungeons.

A moment later he realized that he was running in the wrong direction, the passage would only get him deeper underground. He knew that Snape wouldn't be in his chambers; the professor told him that they would be transporting the patients from the infirmary to St. Mungo's today, before the school closed completely.

He was about to turn around ready to wade through the water, when the realization came: that all of Snape's work to heal Harry's friends would be lost…

"It's bloody freezing…" muttered Harry, his teeth chattering, as he set out toward Snape's room again. He would save at least the professor's notes.

By the time he reached the potions master's chambers the water level was up to his waist. Shaking from the cold he wrestled the main door open. Inside almost everything was underwater.

"Tre…Trenus!" yelled Harry suddenly remembering the wacky candle.

Without waiting for an answer he trudged to the lab to find anything that he could still save. Grabbing a trunk from the storeroom he levitated it on top of the workbench and began collecting every parchment and lexicon in sight. Tossing them into the trunk he shut the lid and waterproofed it just in time, as the water flooded the desk. He stuffed away his wand to free both his hands, and grabbed anything else that seemed important as he made his way out.

"I'm so glad to see you, young master!" said Trenus floating in front of the door. Harry looked up with his hands full.

"Have you gone completely bonkers?!" he yelled gasping for air as the freezing-cold water shook his whole body. "Why are you still here, can't you see…that any moment…this whole place will be flooded?"

"I was waiting for someone to get me. I thought Severus would be here soon."

"Well, you thought wrong," with that he dropped the things from his left hand and grabbed the candle unceremoniously. "We have to leave, now!"

Turning swiftly, he was brought to a halt by a cool voice.

"Drop everything you are holding, Potter. Then lift your hands, so I can see them both!"

Harry let go of the books and slowly turned to face the invader. Lucius Malfoy stood in the main door with his wand pointed directly at Harry's heart. The man was soaking wet, but his victorious smile revealed that he didn't feel inconvenienced by the flood.

"Put down that candle as well," he spat.

Harry was about to comply when the bookshelf in the living room came crashing down, unbalanced by the currents. He took advantage of Malfoy's momentary distraction by flipping Trenus and swinging it with full force at Malfoy's head. Lucius went down with a cry, collapsing into the water.

"Sorry Trenus."

"I think I have a concussion," groaned the candle.

"I said sorry," replied Harry as he went to check on Lucius. The man appeared to be unconscious, and after a moment of hesitation Harry propped him up against the wall to prevent him from drowning. Then he got out his wand to summon the trunk from the lab. Levitating it out through the door he followed it slowly.

"_Stupefy_!" Harry heard the spell from behind, and he tried to jump but the deep water aborted his movements, and he ended up executing an inelegant fall. Fortunately this was enough, since the spell missed him hitting a cabinet.

"Harry, watch out!" warned Trenus, but it was too late. The cabinet tipped forward and landed on the boy's leg with a loud splash, effectively forcing him to stay in a sitting position.

He tried to free his legs, but the ancient piece of furniture proved to be much too heavy. The water covered Harry up to his chin, and he watched helplessly as Malfoy sent Trenus flying with a spell. The candle hit the wall with a loud thwack, dropping into the water.

Malfoy slowly walked up to Harry, flashing a predator's smile at him as he pulled out a dagger from his robes.

"Well, well, well, Mr. Potter…after all you are not as lucky as you are rumored to be. The Dark Lord sent me for your blood, and he doesn't insist on personally taking your life anymore. I was granted the honor of doing away with you whichever way I prefer," explained Lucius smirking. Bending closer to Harry he grabbed his arm and cut it deeply with the dagger along the veins. Harry cried out as the blade bit into his skin.

"Just scream, no one can hear you. We made sure that everyone would be occupied with evacuating the castle. Oh, well. Dumbledore can't always be where he is needed, and since all the students are away…and your friends won't be coming to save you either."

Harry listened shivering as his blood dripped into the cold water.

"You bastard…you won't get away with this," choked out the boy, his voice hoarse. "What do the students have to do with this anyway?"

"Oh, you didn't know? Dumbledore is not powerful enough to protect the school alone," Malfoy continued his speech while he held up Harry's arm to collect some of the blood into a vial. The boy bit down on his tongue to hold back a scream as Lucius pressed around the wound to elicit faster blood-flow. "The wards around the school rely on the children within, the more children, the stronger the protection. Did Dumbledore forget to mention that he steals the magic of his students?"

Meanwhile the water level continued rising slowly, and Harry had to lift his chin to breathe through his mouth. He was beginning to lose feeling in his legs, whether it was due to the freezing water or the cabinet crushing them was impossible to tell.

"That's it. It was my pleasure Mr. Potter," mocked Lucius, and capping the vial he pocketed it. Then he looked around them innocently. "Oh, damn, there is nobody to pull you out from there. How regrettable. And now, if you will excuse me."

With that, he walked off leaving Harry trapped.

"Tre…Trenus…" he called out for the candle weakly, but no answer came, and he wasn't sure where the candle fell.

The water was rising alarmingly, and he could barely hold himself straight.

A few moments later the water covered his mouth. He tried to stretch desperately, panicking as his nostrils got immersed as well.

Holding back his breath Harry could only hope that drowning wasn't very painful. He was running out of air quickly, and he hoped that someone would pull him out soon. But no one came and out of breath he began to gulp water frantically… then everything went black.

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

"Harry! Harry, breathe for God's sake!" shouted a voice compelling him to abandon the darkness. He gasped for air as someone turned him onto his side. He coughed persistently spitting out the water coming from his lungs.

Finally Harry was able to open his eyes, and he recognized the figure kneeling at his side.

"Prof…pro…essor," he was shaking uncontrollably from the cold, and it took an overwhelming effort to move his tongue. "Malfoy…'s here…he was here."

"I know Harry," said Snape soothingly and he wrapped Harry into a frayed, but thankfully warm, blanket. "It's all right. We will go somewhere safe."

Harry recognized the Hogwarts hallway, and he could feel water under his back. They couldn't be far from the dungeons.

"He cut…my arm…," His words were barely understandable through the chatter of his teeth. "blood, he…took blood…from me." He felt very tired and yawning deeply he closed his eyes. He could get a bit of sleep, and after that he would recount everything to Snape. "'m very sleepy."

Snape had been occupied with Harry's wound, but noticing the boy drift off he grabbed his shoulders to shake him.

"Harry, listen to me! You need to stay awake."

" 'm sorry, professor…awf'lly sleepy," he mumbled.

"Harry, open your eyes!" ordered Snape firmly, but Harry allowed sleep to claim him; to take him away from the cold.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooO


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer from the Prologue applies: All characters and the HP universe belong to JKR, we are only borrowing them for our entertainment.

Disclaimer 2: This is NOT MY STORY, it's a translation of Lilyanjudyth's original work written in Hungarian. I'm posting it here with her permission.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Chapter 8. Home, sweet home; Part 1

Harry came to awareness lying on his side, his head propped up on warm pillows. He didn't open his eyes immediately, cherishing the comfort. There were numerous blankets wrapped around him snugly covering him up to his neck, and he was sure he wouldn't be able to move even if he tried. It felt good not to be cold. Actually, it was a little too warm under the many blankets, but not uncomfortably so, aside from the fact that the heat made him drowsy.

When he finally opened his eyes, he immediately recognized his surroundings: old, yellowed walls, dilapidated furniture: he was in one of the living rooms at Grimmauld place.

Like so many times when he woke up these past few weeks, he found the flickering flame of a candle hovering near him.

"Trenus, you made it," croaked Harry and realizing that he could barely talk, he continued whispering. "I'm so sorry I used you to knock out Malfoy. I really am."

"It's all right," replied the candle. "The most important thing is that you survived, that Severus got there in time. Rest some more, little master."

Harry closed his eyes again, thinking that was a great idea. He still felt incredibly drained. The cut on his arm didn't hurt, and he assumed it had been healed, but wanted to check it regardless. Trying to wriggle it free, Harry realized that he couldn't get it out without unwrapping all the blankets. He gave up, thinking it was for the best. It was so nice listening to the crackling fire all bundled up and cozy.

He almost managed to drift off to sleep again, but a door slamming woke him and he could hear raised voices from another room.

"Don't try to tell me that you didn't even suspect there would be an attack! You know damn well that I've been tending to patients and working on the epidemic. Are your other sources absolutely useless?"

"Severus…"

"Forget it Alastor. Once Albus returns we will need to discuss this again. For now, everyone is safe, and Potter survived as well. Someone should let Lupin know that we are here."

"Yes…later."

Finally, it was quiet again. Harry really wanted to go back to sleep. Then he heard someone open his door slowly and come in.

"Trenus, has he woken yet?" Snape's voice asked.

"I'm awake," Harry beat Trenus to the answer, opening his eyes. "but I almost fell asleep again."

The professor was at the table, mixing something in a goblet. At hearing Harry's voice he turned around surprised. Taking the steaming cup he walked over to sit at the boy's side.

"You were unconscious when I brought you here, so I had to conjure the Hypothermia Potion directly into your stomach. But now you can drink," the potions master explained, suddenly switching to lecturing mode. "Potter…what did you think you were doing going back there, when everything was flooded?"

"I didn't want all your research to go to waste," came the hoarse reply, and Harry continued suddenly worried. "Did you find the trunk? Did it leak? I'm not very good at waterproofing charms."

Snape sighed before responding.

"Yes, I found it undamaged," he said incredulously. "You keep surprising me, Harry. You risked your life to save my results?"

Harry didn't know how to interpret the strange look Snape was giving him, but hearing the professor call him by his first name was surprise enough on its own.

"Well, yes. And to fetch Trenus."

The potions master just shook his head in consternation, before he took the cup and held it out for the boy to drink. "You should try to drink at least half of it. It will help your throat."

"Sure it's not poison?" joked Harry, but seeing Snape's grave expression his grin disappeared instantaneously.

He obediently sipped the warm liquid that tasted just like tea. It reminded him of the blend Hagrid brewed at their last visit. Focusing on the cup also gave him an excuse to avoid looking at his professor's face. He found seeing concern there a great deal more unsettling than the usual scorn. When he drank half the tea Snape removed the cup from his hands.

"While your saint Gryffindor soul was trying to save the salvageable, you managed to acquire a handsome little cold," explained the potions master snidely. "I trust you can handle staying put for a while."

Harry leaned back against the pillows in lieu of a reply.

"Did you take everyone to Saint Mungo's?" he asked remembering why Snape wasn't there yesterday in the first place, and that his friends were among the patients as well.

After the potions master set aside the cup, he appeared to give his full attention to Harry.

"Yes, we successfully transported everyone to the hospital," he replied frankly, which served to further the boy's unease. "And Hogwarts is being…well, let us say _dried_ as we speak."

"Goo…" Harry tried to say, but his words were drowned out by coughs shaking his body.

"Perhaps it would be best if you drank the whole cup," Snape recommended holding out the drink for him. Instead of taking it, Harry leaned back closing his eyes tiredly.

"I can't drink anymore. I would rather sleep now," he whispered squirming around a bit in order to wake up his legs, which seemed to have gone to sleep without him. After a few tries he managed to find a comfortable position.

"I was about to suggest that you do so," he heard Snape's voice, and felt the weight of another blanket being pulled around him. "You suffered hypothermia and we need to stabilize your body temperature. The warming potion helped to avoid the immediate danger, and the brew you just drank should assist further. I called healer Hippocrates, and he will arrive soon to examine you."

Harry smiled opening his eyes a little.

"Oh yes, the Boy-who-lived-_again_," he managed to say before another coughing fit.

"Would you rather it be the Boy-who-died-of-a-bloody-cold? Because if you don't rest enough that will be high on your list of options," said Snape coolly. "I will check on you later, Potter."

"I preferred Harry," mumbled the boy. "It's okay though, I'm used to Potter."

"Go to sleep, Harry," the professor said not unkindly before softly closing the door.

Harry fell asleep with a small smile.

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

When Harry woke again he felt really warm. Opening his eyes curiously he looked around to check whether Snape was in the room. Instead of the professor he found a messy-haired, middle-aged man sitting on the chair that was pulled up near his bed. The man smiled at him.

"Ah, finally you are awake!" he said enthusiastically proceeding to help Harry sit up.

"Could you help me get out of these blankets?" groaned Harry as he attempted to climb out of bed with little success.

"Of course."

With that the man pealed off most of the blankets leaving only the last one in place, but he pushed Harry back on the bed gently.

"This doesn't mean you are allowed to get up. In fact, I want you to stay in bed for now."

"Who are you?"

The man laughed quietly extending a hand.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Hippocrates Smethwyck," he introduced himself shaking Harry's hand. Leaning back in the chair he crossed his arms across his chest. Harry pushed up his pillow against the headboard so he could sit.

"I remember, you were Mr. Weasley's attending healer," finally he recalled where he heard the peculiar name before.

"Indeed," nodded the man, and leaning forward he patted Harry's hand in a friendly gesture. "And from now on I'm your attending healer as well."

"But I'm not even…"

"Remember, you are still sick, simply in a different way," said Hippocrates finally rising from the chair. "You had hypothermia _and_ you nearly drowned. Lucky that Severus got there in time, without his immediate aid we would very likely not be talking now. Hypothermia is nothing to be trifled with," he waited for Harry to nod in acknowledgement before continuing. "I will be staying here at Headquarters, and with your help Severus and I can hopefully find a cure for the epidemic. I will leave you to rest. Just came by to ensure that you were on the road to recovery, now I must return to Saint Mungo's."

"But I'm not tired anymore. Why won't you let me get up?" Being ordered to remain in bed reminded Harry of being forced to stay in the infirmary with the fussing Madam Pomfrey. "I told you I was fine," he protested.

"Oh yes, Severus warned me about your temper. You need rest Harry."

With that he hurriedly left the room. Harry lay back turning on his side to sulk, at least while he could hear the healer's footsteps.

"_Severus warned ma about your temper,_" he echoed mockingly in a sing-song voice, sitting up again. "I'm bloody not going to lie in bed when people's lives depend on me."

"I think this may be a good time to start listening to your elders," interjected Trenus, who has been a quiet observer while there was someone else to prevent Harry from doing anything stupid.

"Besides, I'm not willing to sit here uselessly, when they are working in this house," continued Harry standing up carefully. "Where is Snape?"

"Severus?" returned the candle astonished. "Well, where would you guess he was? In the lab working."

Harry walked over to his trunk to grab his favorite sweater then snapped the lid closed. Pulling on the garment he set off toward the door.

"Are you coming?"

"Why would I? So Severus can tell me off for not being able to keep you in bed?" asked Trenus miffed by Harry's blatant disregard for his advice. "No, I'm staying here, alone so I can finally sleep. And before you ask, yes, candles sleep as well!"

"Glad to hear that," retorted Harry closing the door behind him.

He didn't see anyone outside, and the house seemed unnaturally quiet. Walking down the stairs toward the basement he tried to recall which room housed the potions lab. As he painfully summoned up memories of cleaning the place a year ago, he remembered that the last door on the hallway led to a room with cauldrons and jars of potions ingredients.

He stopped for a moment trying to formulate his answer to Snape's inevitable question of why he failed to stay in bed as the healer ordered. Finally deciding that he would improvise Harry knocked on the door and walked in to the room, not waiting for an answer.

Snape stood by the table leaning over a tray of vials as he dipped a root into the one closest to him. He looked up at hearing the door open.

Harry walked up bravely to the other side of the table, undeterred by Snape's raised eyebrows.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?" he asked reproachfully as he dipped another piece of root in the next vial.

"No, I'm completely fine," replied the boy resolutely, and looking around the table he continued. "Can I help with something?"

Snape gave him a measuring look leaving his work for the moment.

"Being intimately familiar with your potions grades, I highly doubt that you can be of use here," he said snidely, then pausing he continued seriously. "Did you meet Hippocrates?"

"Yes. He was sitting by the bed when I woke up."

Harry avoided touching anything on the table, but he took a closer look at the bulky encyclopedias piled up at one corner of it.

"I assume he returned to the hospital afterwards without letting me know," grumbled Snape, then he looked over Harry again. "You seriously desire to help?"

Harry sighed resignedly. "You have told me enough times that I'm useless and stupid," he said with some fire, then pointed at the books. "But I could do research reading those. Hermione always does that, and it's damn useful and not dangerous at all."

The potions master walked around to the books.

"All right," he agreed finally picking up the whole stack. "But you must sit there in the armchair."

Harry looked back surprised. He didn't notice that while one side of the room was organized as a lab with selves full of ingredients and cauldrons, the other half resembled a reading corner of a library. In addition to the bookshelves and the reading desk, there were also two worn armchairs by a small fireplace.

Snape brought the books over there, placing them on the desk after rearranging the scattered parchments on it.

"Is something the matter?" he addressed the boy when he still didn't move from the worktable.

Harry just shook his head in response and followed Snape to the other side of the room sitting down in the armchair closer to the fire. The professor handed him a scroll of parchment and the top two books.

"You could start by marking the pages where any of the plants listed on this parchment is mentioned," he instructed placing a small paper box next to the armchair. "You will find bookmarks in here. You can write on them, but do not write in the books."

"I need to look for these in all of those books?" asked Harry incredulously indicating the list on the pasrchment. Snape's only response was a small smirk, nearly resembling a smile.

"You insisted on helping…"

It was true, and Harry had to smile at himself at this new expression of his saving-people-thing, as Hermione always called it.

Snape returned wordlessly to his work, and Harry didn't ask anything after that. He picked up the first volume and began his work with resolve.

A whole hour passed as they worked silently. Harry noticed Snape looking at him occasionally, as if the professor wanted to ask something, but he never did.

In spite of Harry's determination to complete the task, after an hour of reading in the comfort of the armchair his eyelids began to droop, and soon he fell asleep as his book slipped to the floor.

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A/N: Reviews are appreciated. They let me know that there are people who are interested in the story, and for whom it would be inaccessible in Hungarian.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer from the Prologue applies: All characters and the HP universe belong to JKR, we are only borrowing them for our entertainment.

Disclaimer 2: This is NOT MY STORY, it's a translation of Lilyanjudyth's original work written in Hungarian. I'm posting it here with her permission.

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Chapter 8. Home, sweet home; Part 2

"Wake up, you sleepyhead!"

Harry murmured something in response and proceeded to curl up even more, pulling the blanket up to his chin.

"Harry, wake up," then nudging continued. After a few more minutes of it he realized that the voice he was hearing sounded very familiar. Opening his eyes and looking up blearily he was greeted by a kind smile.

"Remus!" Harry exclaimed in surprise, and tossing off his covers he flew into the man's arms.

"At last! I thought you would never wake up," laughed Lupin hugging the boy. Harry let go of him to sit back in the armchair, dizzy from standing so suddenly. "Take it slowly Harry, you need to rest more."

"No, I just…"

"Yes, you do," interrupted Lupin firmly, pulling the blanket back around the boy. Harry didn't remember having a blanket when he started to read. He looked around for Snape suspiciously, and found him standing at the other end of the room by the lab table.

Lupin reached out to take a steaming mug from the desk. "I remember how annoyed you used to get when Madam Pomfrey kept you in the infirmary overnight. But recovery takes time, and you need to be patient."

Harry took the offered mug holding it with both hands. Taking a sip he looked into the cup surprised.

"I thought I would drop by and make some hot cocoa for you," explained Remus smiling.

Meanwhile Snape, levitating with him the trays of potions he had been working on, walked out of the room closing the door quietly.

At the implication that Remus would be leaving soon Harry's last ounce of happiness disappeared.

"Do you have to leave?"

"Yes," confirmed Lupin. "I must return to my work tonight. But I had to come and see you after all that's happened. According to Severus you were very unwell," he said looking at the boy closely. "Don't worry, I will try to come and visit as often as possible."

"I thought you could stay here at headquarters," said Harry quietly and he looked around the room to make sure Snape hasn't returned. "I don't want to stay here, alone with Snape."

Lupin crouched down next to the armchair to be at Harry's eye level.

"Severus is a good man, but he holds onto some old grudges. He never knew you closely and only saw your father in you, and well…James and Severus were not on good terms," Lupin tried to explain. "In the little time I spent here I noticed that his opinion of you has changed. Spending more time with him, you will realize that he is also different than the unfair professor the students know him to be."

"Yes…maybe," acknowledged Harry unwillingly.

"Well then, don't be so upset about me leaving. Severus can take care of you, as he has already proven."

"Don't remind me," grumbled Harry under his breath.

Lupin ruffled his hair smiling.

"Be good and don't exasperate your professor, he is very busy."

"Of course…take care, Remus!"

The man smiled at him once more, then walked out of the room leaving him alone. Harry finished the remaining hot chocolate and continued his work not looking up when Snape returned with several trays full of clean vials.

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As the days came and went the inhabitants of Grimmauld Place slowly settled into a routine.

Harry usually had breakfast alone, did literature search in the morning, took lunch alone as well, spent the afternoon continuing his research, and had dinner in the company of Snape. Healer Smethwyck came and went several times during the day, as his work required. On the other hand, Snape didn't seem to leave the lab at all, except when he took dinner with Harry.

Harry's dislike for his professor was slowly overlaid with admiration as he watched the two men labor endlessly to find a cure.

However, he found it odd that the professor diverted every question about the flood at Hogwarts. The man wasn't willing to reveal the reason for his reticence either.

All in all he found the company of the two men agreeable, and their work seemed to be productive. Harry hadn't heard of further fatal cases, not until one day he decided to go down to the kitchen in the afternoon for a little snack.

He reached the turn in the staircase when he heard the noises of a muffled conversation. He was about to clear his throat in order to call attention to his presence, but he decided to abort the action.

"It's here Severus, take a look," Harry heard Hippocrates say.

"I would rather not," responded Snape in a disconcerting voice.

Harry crouched down carefully to peek through between the posts of the railing. Snape appeared to be poring over some foreign journal, intently ignoring the scroll of parchment that Hippocrates was holding out toward him.

"I recommend you read the list," said the healer quietly.

Snape didn't bother to look up from the journal.

"It's enough if you tell me the number, I will look through the details later," he said coolly. Looking at the parchment Harry was suddenly gripped by a strange, cold dread.

"There are Hogwarts students on it," continued Smethwyck.

The potions master seemed to freeze for a moment. Finally, accompanied by a deep sigh, he accepted the parchment.

The room was eerily quiet, and Harry could hear nothing but the loud thrumming of his heart. He didn't dare believe his suspicion: the list couldn't be what he thought it was, not with someone from Hogwarts on it…

Pressing his face closer to the railing he tried to read the truth from Snape's expression.

The potions master appeared to glance over the list very swiftly, until his gaze settled at the bottom of the scroll.

When at last he lifted his eyes to Hippocrates, his face was already schooled into an expressionless mask.

"Is this confirmed?" he asked, his voice even, as he returned the scroll to the healer.

Hippocrates nodded regretfully as he rolled up the parchment and tied it.

Though Snape's face was unreadable, Harry could tell that the man was shaken. He was sure something terrible must have happened to unsettle even the stone-faced professor.

Standing up on shaky legs he forced himself to go down the stairs. It took considerable effort, because his legs weren't acting particularly cooperative.

When the bottom stair creaked under his step, both men looked up at him immediately. He saw Snape's face turning, if possible, even paler, which was a disturbing occurrence in and of its own.

Harry stopped right in front of Snape, who somehow managed to regain his color. He wondered whether Occlumency could enable one to accomplish such a thing.

The potions master closed his journal and addressed the healer, suddenly all business.

"I will certainly let you know about the conclusion, Hippocrates."

For a fraction of a moment Hippocrates stared at him not understanding, then as realization dawned he grabbed his outer robes from the hanger.

"Of course," he donned the cloak, stuffing the documents into a hidden pocket. He nodded toward Harry and abruptly walked out of the room.

"Potter, you haven't had dinner yet, have you?" asked Snape, standing up to leisurely walk toward the kitchen. But Harry was unable to move, unable to pretend that he heard nothing.

"I know, Sir, that something happened…something bad," he called after the professor quietly, which brought the man to a halt. Snape turned around slowly, looking pained as he took a deep breath before he spoke.

"I thought that you haven't witnessed the earlier exchange," ha said carefully. "How much did you hear, Harry?"

"You are calling me Harry again," commented the boy as his heart began to race with fear. "You only do that, when you are seriously worried."

Snape's face closed off completely, but his eyes were an oddly shimmering black. He walked back to Harry but didn't speak.

"Tell me, Sir! What happened?" pleaded Harry fretfully.

"I admit that I believed delaying the news will make it less painful," he said compassionately. "But I realize I can't keep such momentous information from you. Do you know whose names stood on that parchment?"

"I guess…those that died."

Snape nodded once but didn't say anything, as if he was waiting for Harry to be ready; waiting for some sort of permission to continue.

"Who was it?" said the boy so quietly that he couldn't be sure Snape would even hear it. But after a moment's hesitation the potions master reached out a hand to grab Harry's shoulder.

"Seamus Finnigan," he pronounced quietly.

"Wha…" asked Harry hoarsely as the world spun around him. Snape grabbed both his shoulders to keep him steady, as Harry tried to calm down and breathe. "No professor, that can't be! He couldn't have died."

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	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer from the Prologue applies: All characters and the HP universe belong to JKR, we are only borrowing them for our entertainment.

Disclaimer 2: This is NOT MY STORY, it's a translation of Lilyanjudyth's original work written in Hungarian. I'm posting it here with her permission.

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Chapter 10. Solitude; Part 1.

Harry avoided collapsing solely due to Snape's strong grip on his shoulders, while he fought his impulse to cry. He didn't need to add to his misery by breaking down in front of the professor. The man already had plenty of reasons to mock him, and Harry wasn't about to provide further cause for scorn if he could prevent it.

"Take a few deep breaths and calm down," enunciated Snape slowly, but didn't let him go.

"I'm…" his voice was so hoarse that he needed to start over in order to complete his sentence. "I'm fine, just…I just need to be alone."

Snape nodded tersely in response and finally released him. Harry started off toward the stairs with unsure steps, when his teacher called after him.

"Harry, wait."

He stopped to turn desolate eyes back to the potions master.

"I will be in the lab, if you need anything," said the man reservedly. "I shall check on you later. It's not a good idea to stay alone at times like these, only to suppress your grief."

"I don't need your company," said Harry, his voice rough with barely contained emotion.

"Harry, you…" began the potions master only to be interrupted.

"And I don't want you to send your spy after me!"

Snape nodded in acceptance, but his dark gaze followed the boy's steps throughout their ascent up the stairs.

Harry's legs felt like they were filled with lead, and it seemed to take him forever to reach the room he had been staying in since the flood. Opening the door he was about to lay down on the bed, when he noticed the candle on the nightstand.

Stepping up to it, he poked the wax with a finger.

"Trenus, hey! Wake up."

"What? Is the house on fire?" returned the candle not understanding the need for urgency.

"No, it's not," assured Harry grabbing him by the candleholder. "I just want to be alone, if that's not a problem."

"Let me go, now! I can move around fine without you pushing me, in case you haven't noticed."

Harry released his grip, which made the candle tip back with the loss of momentum, but it stayed in the air at the boy's eye level.

"I did notice," retorted Harry pointing at the door. "And now, if you would excuse me!"

As soon as the candle floated out, Harry pushed the door closed and locked it just to be on the safe side. He could hear Trenus complaining outside, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Rolling the covers aside, he laid face down on the bed.

He pulled the pillow over his head trying to calm down without success. Images of a dead Seamus came unbidden to torment him. One of his best friends, and he would never laugh with Harry again, never tell jokes in the common room…

Harry tried to cry, but no tears would come; only an unbearable feeling of loss accompanying the sense of certainty that nothing would ever be the same again.

He clutched the corners of his pillowcase till his knuckles turned white, gasping for air as his chest constricted in pain.

Forcing himself to breathe evenly, perhaps an hour passed before he finally managed to fall asleep.

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His first thought when he woke was that the wards of the house must have fallen, and the roof of the ancient building was finally collapsing on top of them. Alas, no. Merely someone was knocking on his door non-stop, hard enough to break it down.

"Potter, I'm warning you, if you don't open the door at once I will come in by force and drag you down bodily to dinner!"

That answered the question of the intruder's identity. Massaging the bridge of his nose Harry climbed out of bed feeling lightheaded. He made it to the door and opened it just in time to see Snape draw his wand.

"Finally!" he grumbled, appearing to inspect Harry closely. "How are you feeling?"

Harry looked up disdainfully at his teacher.

"Let's just stay with '_Potter'_ and mocking! This concern-business doesn't become you," he lashed out defensively. "I preferred when you didn't ask about my well-being and didn't pretend to care!"

"Stop this, Harry!" interrupted Snape appearing very angry all of a sudden. "However unbelievable it may seem to you, I won't allow the Boy-Who-Lived to wallow in misery and die of starvation."

"Well, that's much better," commented Harry, but Snape grabbed both his shoulders as he did in the kitchen not so long ago. The professor turned him around and, against all of the boy's protests, he directed Harry smoothly toward the kitchen.

"Won't you at least ask if I'm hungry?" complained Harry whining as he turned to look up at Snape over his shoulder.

"I thought it was apparent that I wasn't interested in listening to your foolish objections tonight."

Harry tried to wriggle out of the man's grip, but it was too strong, and fighting only made his arms ache. Nevertheless, he kept trying to shake off the hands, until they reached the kitchen, where Snape let go of him after pushing him down onto one of the chairs.

Dinner was already served, and there was cutlery laid out for two on the table. The food smelt enticing, and Harry realized that in the absence of anyone else, Snape himself must have prepared it. With this bizarre thought in mind he watched as the professor took the seat opposite him. Trenus sat at the far end of the table wordlessly. Harry was grateful for its silence, and knowing the candle, he was certain that it was under strict orders not to comment or make fun of him.

Snape took the initiative to serve them: taking Harry's bowl he scooped what looked like a light broth into it. He placed the dish in front of the boy and accompanied it with a threatening look. Harry understood the implications, and once the man served himself, he tentatively took a spoonful of the soup. It tasted better than he expected.

They ate quietly and Trenus maintained his silence as well. The second dish was a roast with potatoes and carrots. Harry found it quite good, and though he didn't feel hungry at all, he was able to stomach some of the meal. After all, he was aware that Snape had no qualms about forcing him to eat by physical means if he deemed it necessary.

Strategically Harry served himself only a few potatoes and steamed carrot pieces along the slice of roast, to ensure that he could eat everything on his plate. Snape didn't seem to object.

Once he chewed and swallowed the last mouthful, Harry wiped his mouth with the napkin standing slowly to confirm that he was not glued to the chair this time.

Snape sipped his coffee, but as Harry stood he looked up with raised eyebrows.

"Are you going to lock yourself up in your room brooding again?"

"I don't think it's any of your business," replied Harry.

"Come back and sit," instructed Snape, and as Harry tried to leave he felt an invisible force pushing him back to the chair.

"You bastard!" Harry cried out in frustration as the stress of the evening overwhelmed him. "Why can't you just leave me alone and find something better to do?"

Snape poured another cup of coffee for himself.

"I could deduct at least hundred points for your behavior," he announced coldly. "However, I will forgive you this once, seeing as your frail nerves must have induced you to forget the manners you must use to appropriately address your elders."

"Are you implying that I've gone mad?" snapped Harry at the insult. The professor just smirked coldly in response, and Harry wanted to pour the remaining soup on his head, or at least throw a few potatoes at him.

"I believe we both know the answer to that question."

The words were dripping sarcasm, and Harry felt like he was back in potions class. As the charm was holding him fixed to the chair, he had to wait for Snape to drink another cup of coffee –his usual evening dose.

Trenus appeared to be sleeping as he stood there without having said a word throughout dinner.

"And now, you will accompany me to the lab," announced the potions master after neatly wiping his mouth with his napkin. "I won't let you sit around in your room moping alone."

Harry listened quietly trying to reign in his temper, as he seethed inwardly at the man's audacity to order him around on a whim. Snape cleaned away the dishes with a wave of his wand, and stopped in front of him.

"What do you want, sir?" asked the boy angrily, having to tilt his head back to look at the man's face. "You know I'm an idiot at potions! And you're right; I can't concentrate on anything right now. But if you just want me to blow myself up, sure, I can come."

Harry completely forgot about the magic holding him to his chair, and standing up in the heat of the argument he noted with some surprise that it was no longer active.

"Well, it's time then that you practiced," clarified Snape bitterly. "Had you taken the effort to ask me respectfully, I would have allowed you to continue reading in the corner. But I see that you must take all my attempts of help the wrong way."

Harry raised himself up slightly on his toes, but even that way he stood shorter than the man's chin.

"Yeah, of course," he said impertinently. "_you_ wanting to help _me_. You just keep me here to make sure I don't do anything stupid."

Oddly Snape simply shrugged in response.

"If you wish to believe so…"

Harry wanted to throw a few more accusations at his teacher's head, but the man got hold of his arm and quietly led him toward the lab. He let go when they reached the door, and opening it he gestured for the boy to enter.

Harry gave one last murderous look before entering and walking to the armchair closer to the fireplace. The blanket was still there along his encyclopedias and parchments. With a painful sigh he picked up the blanket and sat, while Snape walked up to his workbench wordlessly and began to prepare ingredients.

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Thank you for all who reviewed, much appreciated!


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer from the Prologue applies: All characters and the HP universe belong to JKR, we are only borrowing them for our entertainment.

Disclaimer 2: This is NOT MY STORY, it's a translation of Lilyanjudyth's original work written in Hungarian. I'm posting it here with her permission.

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Chapter 11. Solitude; Part 2.

Harry hadn't believed it possible to describe so many different phases of madness. Immersing himself in his readings he tried to focus on the words, but from every face depicted in the illustrations Seamus appeared to be looking back at him.

He shook his head attempting to rid it from the images, but it wasn't easy to copy the ingredients listed next to the pictures and keeping his eyes from drifting back to them in morbid fascination and self-torture. Curled up in his armchair, he bent over the ancient volume again.

It wasn't long before, _plick, plick…plick…_ a low sound, much alike that of summer rain on the roof, broke the silence.

Harry's tears fell on the old pages of the encyclopedia, and he watched with his throat painfully constricted, as the lines got mussed and the parchment crinkled soaking up the water. He was frozen, trying to keep quiet, yet unable to wipe away the tears with his shaking hands.

Then he felt someone remove the quill from his hand, before it could drip ink into the wet mess. It wasn't necessary to look up, he already knew who must be the person standing beside him.

"Are you okay?" asked Snape softly.

And Harry couldn't pretend to be strong anymore, not in face of the open concern obvious in the man's voice. He shook his head silently in response.

"Let me take this," the professor continued in the same calm voice, taking the parchment from Harry's hand and snapping the book shut. Once they were set aside, the man crouched down next to the armchair just like Lupin did some time ago. "Why didn't you say something? I could have given you a Calming or a Sleeping Draught," he said, but there was no accusation in his voice.

"It's all right. I'll be fine," Harry said hoarsely, and he tried to stand up avoiding looking at the man's face. The professor reached out a hand to gently push the boy back into the armchair.

"No, you will not be fine locking yourself up in your room. I'm not allowing you to close up... or to grieve alone," he said quietly with resolve. The intensity of the man's voice prompted Harry to finally look up. Snape met his eyes quirking an eyebrow.

"Will I need to resort to physical force, as I threatened in the morning?"

"No…but…"

At the inarticulateresponse the potions master's eyebrows shot up even further, if at all possible.

"But?"

Harry squirmed under the man's penetrating gaze, and finally decided to continue observing the floor. It seemed altogether easier than facing the professor.

"You seem to care now…and you didn't use to," he bit out finally.

"I seem?" teased Snape lightly, then he did something unexpected: reaching out he placed a palm under Harry's chin tipping his head back, effectively forcing the boy to look him in the eye. There was no trace of humor in his expression. "I think we both know that one must often present a mask to the world, act the way others expect him to. Don't try to be strong and detached, because grief will suffocate you. It will change you irrevocably."

"You can't understand…"

Snape looked at the boy sharply, but didn't let go of him.

"Can't I? I think you know close to nothing about me, thus you can have no idea of the people I've grieved for."

"Sorry," whispered Harry suddenly feeling even worse. Fully expecting Snape's return to nastiness after his thoughtless accusation, he immediately lowered his eyes again when the man removed his palm from cupping Harry's chin.

Fresh tears followed and he couldn't hide away from the professor. But no snide comments came, and the man didn't leave him on his own either. Rather, he pulled the boy gently forward, and when Harry looked up at him, the man simply said: "Come here."

And though Harry didn't understand what he meant immediately, the potions master put an arm around him and pulled the boy against his chest. Harry wanted to protest, but his mind betrayed him. Absurdly he felt that the man's robe offered a safe hiding place for breaking down. So he allowed the hug and buried his face into the soft, dark material. Feeling the man's heartbeat under his cheek, he finally realized that he didn't need to be ashamed of his grief.

He knew that the hug was supposed to make him feel better, that he ought to stop crying. But suddenly all the pain that he had accumulated over the past months came to the surface, and all he could do was to cry even harder, lest the sorrow would suffocate him.

Sirius, Ron, Hermione, and now Seamus, too. He was lonely all his life, and now more alone than ever.

Snape was patting his back gently, rhythmically, as if consoling a little child after a bad dream. He couldn't think of the man as his hated potions master anymore…the person he got to know in the past few weeks seemed to be so different from the stern figure that swept down hallways with his cloak billowing behind him. It was terribly embarrassing to be comforted like this, but at this moment he couldn't bring himself to care.

"Shhh, it will be all right," said Snape soothingly, in a voice that Harry has never heard from him before. He tried to hide his face from the man completely, before he asked:

"You mean everything else?" he asked, with his throat sore from crying. Then he broke into sobs again. "I've already lost everyone important to me."

He took a few calming breaths and squeezed his eyes shut to stop the flow of tears, when two strong hands grasped his shoulders, and he found himself facing his teacher.

"Harry, I understand that you feel very lonely right now," said Snape firmly. "but it won't be like this forever! Your friends will be cured when we find the antiserum and this nightmare will be over."

Harry wiped his face inelegantly rubbing his eyes in the process, but when he looked at his teacher it was with tear-filled eyes again.

"But Seamus will never…" his voice broke and he couldn't continue. Snape withdrew a white handkerchief from his robe, and he handed it over to Harry. The boy took it turning sideways in the armchair, and covering himself with the blanket.

Snape walked over to one of the potions cabinets, and after brief consideration, selected a vial. Returning to Harry, he uncorked the potion and crouching down next to the armchair, he held it out to the boy. Harry pretended not to notice.

"It would make you feel better, if you drank it."

"I don't need a potion," refused Harry obstinately, with his gaze fixed on the table. "And you should go back to work, I don't want to hold you up. But I would like to…" it took incredible effort to pronounce those few words. "I'd like to stay here."

By the end of the sentence his voice was so quiet, that he wasn't sure Snape would hear him.

"You may, of course," the man agreed. "On one condition: you must drink this."

Harry sighed in acquiescence, then turned around to Snape and took the phial. Grimacing he sniffed at the contents, attempting to identify the brew.

"I didn't poison it, Potter," commented the potions master snidely. Before Harry could ask what it was, Snape continued with a mild frown. "If you paid a little more attention in class, you could easily recognize a mild Calming Draught."

Calming Draught…scary to chemically or magically alter his feelings. But as he caught sight of his trembling hand, he agreed that in this case it might be necessary to accept the potion.

"All right," he agreed, drinking the potion up in one big gulp. The constricting sensation in his throat and his chest immediately began to ease, though the sorrow remained. Handing the vial back to Snape, he turned on his side pulling up the blanket all the way to his chin.

"Are you comfortable here?" inquired the professor as he stood slowly.

"Well, this is a first," grinned Harry weakly, following it up with a huge, jaw-cracking yawn. Then at Snape's questioning glance he explained drowsily: "You've never asked me such a question before, sir. But, yes, it's comfortable. Only, if I fall asleep, by the time I wake up you shouldn't go back to being like before…to being mean."

Snape remained by the armchair, observing Harry closely, his expression carefully guarded.

"Perhaps you should prepare better for potions classes in the future."

Came the snide reply, but Harry didn't fully listen anymore. He yawned again closing his eyes. He was already halfway in the realm of dreams, when he felt the heat of a fresh fire from the fireplace. A few moments later someone also spread an additional blanket on top of his first one, carefully tucking it in around him.

Snape must have thought that he was asleep, because he moved around even quieter than usual. Harry heard him walk over to the lab bench, and occasionally he could perceive the clinking of a stirring rod against the side of a cauldron.

Harry noted that the professor was actually quite nice when he wasn't preoccupied with disparaging someone. Memories of the last few hours drifted through his mind: Snape comforting him and responding to his concerns, his comment about being forced to wear a mask. The terrible images from the book, with Seamus' face floating to the surface accompanied by painful sorrow. But the sadness was immediately dampened by the potion, and wakefulness slowly gave way to sleep. His last thought was that Snape must have given him a calming draught infused with s sleeping potion…

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He wasn't sure how long he had been asleep, but judging from the conversation he heard, the visitor must have arrived quite a while ago. Unfortunately the potions lab offered no view to the outside, but Harry guessed that he must have woken in the middle of the night.

"Of course, I will definitely inform you of any developments, as I've done so far. Are you staying in London now?"

"Yes. Sadly I feel my time was wasted with the research abroad."

"Not entirely, we can now be certain of the effects of a few more ingredients at least."

"Hmm…" was the only response Harry heard, before a tired silence settled on the room. A creak of a chair followed.

"I think it's time I got some sleep." Snape's voice continued, rough presumably from lack of sleep.

"I must agree. How long has it been since you slept, Severus?"

"I've stopped keeping track…only counting the number of potions tested now."

Footsteps could be heard, and the opening of a door.

"How is he?"

"Tell me Albus, how would you be in his place? You should not have left him alone for the whole summer with his grief. He blames himself."

An impatient sigh.

"We've been over this many times…I better leave now. Take care of him."

"I always did. Good night."

"Good night, Severus."

In spite of his words, Snape continued working for a while. Harry could hear the rummaging, chopping, stirring, and the occasional incantation whispered aloud.

He tried to accept the fact that Dumbledore had returned with empty hands, and the greatest wizard of the century was unable to save his own students. Dozens of healers and potions masters were working on finding a cure, but even in the possession of Harry's blood they haven't succeeded in identifying the cause of the disease. Professor Snape hadn't slept in days, and though he promised Harry that things would be all right, the boy could see doubt in the man's eyes.

The way Harry understood it, someone needed to find out what Voldemort had done in the first place. And who better for the job, than the boy-who-had-a-bloody-connection-set-up-to-the-snakemonster's-mind.

And so, while the professor continued working quietly, believing that Harry was asleep, a plan began to form in the boy's mind.

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Sorry about the late update. I'm not abandoning this story, unless something extreme happens, but I just started my research on avian flu…and it's rather time consuming.

I appreciate reviews…


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer from the Prologue applies: All characters and the HP universe belong to JKR, we are only borrowing them for our entertainment.

Disclaimer 2: This is NOT MY STORY, it's a translation of Lilyanjudyth's original work written in Hungarian. I'm posting it here with her permission.

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Chapter 12. Omniscience: Part 1.

_And so, while the professor continued working quietly, believing that Harry was asleep, a plan began to form in the boy's mind._

He could find out all they needed in order to cure his friends, if only he managed to break into Voldemort's mind to view his memories. Regrets of not paying closer attention during Snape's Remedial Potions classes flooded him for a moment. But he couldn't afford to think about Sirius, or the other tragedies of his fifth year, now.

In any case, he could not have attempted Legilimency from such a distance, unless he was an expert of Voldemort's caliber at the mind arts. Harry remembered that after his fifth year Hermione tried to tell him about various sorts of mind-linking techniques. After Harry's experience she spent a few days in the library, turning to her beloved books to try to make sense of what happened. And even though Harry didn't want to hear her conclusions, he felt obliged to listen after dragging her to the Department of Mysteries that fateful night.

Not that he paid close attention to her impromptu lecture, but he did recall her mentioning a particular potion. He remembered only because he was shocked to realize that the potion would have enabled him to access the mind of any person who has shared a personal thought with him. Of course according to Hermione's books this was done by sharing a memory in a Pensieve. So with this potion he could read the minds of Professor Snape and the Headmaster, having entered their pensieved memories.

And while he had not seen one of Voldemort's personal memories in a Pensieve, the evil monster has certainly shared his thoughts with Harry through their link. He never would have believed that the dreams, which led him to cause Sirius' death, would help him out in the future.

"This could work." Harry murmured to himself. All he had left to do was to get hold of a vial of that potion, drink it and find out directly from Voldemort what disease was killing his friends.

He could hear the soft clinking noises that he now associated with the Professor stirring a cauldron. Waiting patiently he went through his plan a few more times before he heard the door creak. Snape had obviously left the room, and from the sound of his footsteps Harry thought that the man must have gone down to the kitchen…perhaps to get another cup of coffee.

He opened his eyes slightly and looking around the room carefully he concluded that Professor Snape was indeed absent. Harry hesitated briefly, afraid that the Professor would return any moment. But, true to his Gryffindor bravery, he soon decided that if he was to do something, it had to be now.

Standing quietly he took a few stealthy steps to the potions cabinet. He opened the door, and began to look through the rows and rows of neatly labeled vials. Most were labeled with the Professor's elegant cursive, and he immediately realized that the potions were in alphabetical order on each shelf. It didn't take long to find the vial he wanted, it was on the bottom shelf filed under the correct letter.

Harry was sure that the Professor would never talk to him after this, but if he could save everyone, it was worth it. Even losing the Professor's fragile trust.

Picking up the vial with two fingers, he turned it around observing it from all sides. There was no description attached, not explanation on how to use it, or whether he would fall asleep during the procedure.

"What was he thinking: a procedure?! He was about to break into Voldemort's mind for his memories! Perhaps he should think about it as an attack or assault, rather than a procedure." He thought to himself.

Sighing deeply Harry broke the wax stamp on the vial. Once he drank it, he could return to the armchair, and after a nap he would have all the information they needed. Nothing to be scared of, upon waking he would immediately inform Snape about everything.

Telling himself that he would be fine when the Professor resumed hating him, Harry lifted the vial to his mouth. The stench of the potion had him gagging.

"Okay, on three." Harry mouthed, even as he was about to empty his stomach thanks to the smell of the brew. "One…two…three."

After a deep breath he downed the entire vialful of liquid. He faintly noted that its taste was worse than its odor, but after a few deep breaths he was feeling much better. As he took a few steps toward his warm armchair Harry tried to focus on the memories Voldermort had sent him during his fifth year. A few moments passed before new images of horrendous memories started to flick in and out of his mind's grasp.

Walking slowly Harry almost managed to reach the armchair, but his legs gave in and he found himself lying on the ground. The empty vial fell from his grasp, but instead of breaking it rolled away, only to stop under the workbench.

He attempted to pull himself up, but at the same time it felt like he was being transported somewhere with a portkey. Except, this portkey was faulty, and it kept swinging him back and forth between different places.

In the end the potion won. It knocked him out, and he fell back to the floor with his limbs numb. While his body stayed, his mind got transported through space and time to land exactly where he wanted it to: in Voldemort's mind. The monster's memories took him to what looked like a decrepit potions lab, complete with an audience composed of at least a dozen Death Eaters, all wearing black garments and white masks.

They were dangerous, but he was the most dangerous person here. He could smell the pungent odor of their fear, and he remembered punishing each and every one of them before. Punishing them until they cried out in pain, writhing on the floor and pleading for his forgiveness and mercy. Oh yes, he remembered crushing the life out of the ones whom he believed to be traitors. They deserved it; their life belonged to him.

There he stood in front his followers, with a phial in his hands. A phial, whose contents had pushed the wizarding world into the current nightmare.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The potion's effects washed over Harry so swiftly that he wasn't sure he could retain the amount of information he received. But he soon realized that the brew empowered the user to see only, and not to hear the contents of the memories.

He remembered seeing all the dark hooded figures expressing their delight, when upon tossing the phial to the floor of the laboratory it exploded in heavy fumes. He saw admiration on the face of his Death Eaters, a few of whom applauded with pleasure. Then everyone became attentive as they all came up to receive a vial with the potion.

Once all of them had left the building, he walked up to the shelf that held the components of the potion. Having surveyed them with a sense of satisfaction, he destroyed everything without exception, thus eliminating all traces of his work.

Harry woke coughing and angry, disappointed at the inadequacy of the information he obtained. He barely made to get up off the floor, when Snape walked back into the lab. The Professor followed his movements with curiosity, as Harry tiredly moved back to the comfort of his armchair. His whole body was shaking, and to hide it from the perceptive eyes of the potions master, Harry immediately pulled the blankets over his torso, stuffing his arms under the cover as well.

"I fell down. It must have been a bad dream." He even managed a weak smile as he stammered out his excuse. "Maybe I shouldn't have slept here."

The potions master merely raised an eyebrow in response.

"Perhaps it is time that you slept in your bed." Was his only comment, but he continued observing the boy intently.

"True." murmured Harry, and wrapping himself up in the blanket he tried to make his escape before the professor noticed something. He almost made it to the door when Snape called after him.

"I will be down here all night if you need me."

_If you need me_… how strange it was to hear any adult say that. Particularly Snape.

"I will keep it in mind." whispered Harry without looking back.

He pulled the door closed behind him, and slowly made his way toward his room, dragging the blanket along. He felt more and more tired as he got closer to his room. By the time he reached the door, he had to lean against the doorframe to stop from falling.

Somehow he managed to remain standing, and after closing the door he fell down on his bed unconscious.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

AN: Sorry for the delay. RL, and all. But won't abandon the story. And I will even remember to post the chapters as long as there are interested readers. Happy new year!


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer from the Prologue applies: All characters and the HP universe belong to JKR, we are only borrowing them for our entertainment.

Disclaimer 2: This is NOT MY STORY, it's a translation of Lilyanjudyth's original work written in Hungarian. I'm posting it here with her permission.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Chapter 13. Omniscience: Part 2.

_Somehow Harry managed to remain standing, and after closing the door he fell down onto his bed, unconscious._

"Ah, my Lucius. That's wonderful. I knew I could trust you to obtain even such a rare ingredient. And how fortunate that Saint Mungo's should keep a stock." Harry commended the blond man enthusiastically, accepting the little wooden chest extended toward him.

Lucius bowed deeply after handing over the box.

"Can I be of service with anything else, my Lord?" he inquired reservedly, but Harry could sense the concealed curiosity that tinged the man's even voice. The prying, however censured, annoyed him and his fingers itched to punish the impudent servant. He needed to remind himself that he already had entertainment, and after all Lucius had just delivered what the others failed to.

"No, that is all. Now leave." He snapped the order that immediately removed the man from his presence. As soon as the death eater left the room, he walked through the back door swiftly, caressing the box in his hand.

The door led to a potions laboratory, and Harry in Voldemort's body walked straight to the sizeable cauldron occupying the center of the room. He barely spared a glance for the black-robed figure crumpled to the floor near the workbench. Regardless, a strong impulse to cast _Avada _on the shaking heap surged up in his mind. _How dare the man fail him? How dare he deny Lord Voldemort?_

But as his fingers trailed over the lock on the box, the lid snapped open revealing what he had been waiting for. The man on the floor chose this moment to release a wheezing breath, but Harry merely snorted in response, focused now on the potion in front of him. Carefully flicking his wand he added three small pinches worth of the powder from the box, satisfied as he watched the liquid swirl to an angry crimson.

"Must I remind you of your deadlines once more?" he demanded turning from the cauldron and leveling his wand at the figure still hunched on the floor.

Harry vaguely noted that the man struggling for every breath in front of him is the same black robed potions master who had promised to be around, should Harry have need of him. Yet in the dream Harry watches with delight as the figure groans.

"No…it will be done…tomorrow." Snape choked out, as wracking coughs seized his body.

"I hoped so." Harry answered raising Voldemort's wand. "But to remind you of your duties, _Crucio_."

He watched with delight as the potions master writhed on the floor, his back arching back in pain, and his teeth clenched against a flood of screams.

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Harry bolted from his bed drenched in cold sweat. It took him a few moments to get his bearings, and several minutes passed, by the time he realized that he was still at Grimmauld place in complete safety.

He remembered the vague outlines of horrific dreams, in which he saw hundreds of people tortured and killed through Voldemort's eyes. Feeling sick, he recalled that he had personally executed several of them. Well, at least Voldemort did.

And Snape…he had the irrational urge to check on the man. Even though he knew that the memories were just that, past tortures, nothing to be concerned about now. The last time he saw the potions master, the man was healthy, if a bit over-tired. There was no need to dash into trouble just to reassure himself. The professor would immediately realize that Harry had misbehaved and stole one of his potions, and then he would surely loose the man's trust. Forever.

No, he needed to calm down and wash up first. Looking himself up and down Harry realized that he was still wearing his clothes from the day before. Wracking his brain trying to remember what exactly happened after he took the potion, he walked over to his trunk with the intention to dig out some fresh clothes. Leaning forward he soon realized that the potion's effects were not limited to inducing nasty visions. His knees nearly buckled as a wave of nausea hit him, and slowly straightening he tried to fight off the sensation, even as the room continued to reel around him.

He was grateful for the absence of Trenus, who would surely report his condition to the potions master, tattletale candle as he was. Slowly making it to the bathroom, he turned on the shower setting the temperature to cool.

Allowing the water to sooth away some tension, he stood there as images from Voldemort's memories kept assaulting him. He felt dirty, soiled by sharing the monster's thoughts and feelings. Harry stood under the cold water until he started shivering, then wrapping a towel around his waist he went to arrange the bed linen to look like he had slept peacefully.

Dressing quickly Harry stepped out to the hallway. There were an unexpected number of people walking around in the normally deserted mansion. Harry didn't recognize any of them, so he directed his steps toward the kitchen, hoping to find Snape there. Surprisingly along with the professor, Mrs. Weasley also sat at the table. Both adults appeared careworn, and Harry's morning nightmares were immediately forgotten in favor of real fears.

"Did something happen?" he croaked, startling both of the adults.

Mrs. Weasley jumped up immediately, engulfing Harry in one of her stereotypical hugs.

"Oh Harry! I'm so glad to see you!" She held him out at arms length to get a better look, and then continued with a sad smile. "No, nothing happened…their condition is unchanged."

Harry released a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding.

"I was afraid…that…" his voice broke, and he focused his eyes to the floor.

"No. Don't worry." Assured Molly, squeezing both of his shoulders. "Their life is not in danger. They are merely…sleeping." Molly glanced back at Snape before continuing. "But I must leave now. Take care, Harry."

He could only nod in response, as Mrs. Weasley bustled out, briefly looking back from the door.

"I visit them every day. Don't worry, everything that can be done is being done for them."

Harry looked up only to watch her retreating back, then walked to the dining table to take a seat.

He reached for the breadbasket to get a slice of toast and scooped some scrambled eggs onto his plate, all the while observing Snape from beneath his brow. The professor was poring over the Prophet, having poured himself a fresh cup of his usual morning tea. Seeing that clearly, the man was not suffering the effects of Voldemort's Cruciatus, Harry scoffed at himself for worrying. In fact, with newspaper in hand the professor appeared to be an entirely different person from the death eater that had crawled at his feet in the memories.

Harry knew the man as a spiteful, bullying teacher who abused his authority at every turn, and made Harry suffer since his very first potions class. Yet the person sitting in front of him looked neither like the death-eater-turned-spy, nor the bitter professor with sadistic tendencies. He appeared tired, worn thin by nights of experimenting and the weight of the wizarding world on his shoulders. His expressionless face revealed nothing, but his eyes shone with determination, underlined by dark smudges, the echoes of countless sleepless nights.

Harry didn't notice that his staring claimed the man's attention, distracting him from his newspaper.

"Mr. Potter, you look rather worse for wear." He said critically. "Did you not sleep?"

Harry broke off a piece of the toast he had been holding and sent one last guarded look at the professor. Feeling embarrassed for being caught staring, and afraid that the man may employ Legilimency and discover his night's activities, Harry was immediately on the defensive.

"Why does it matter? It's none of your business anyway." He said evenly as he stuffed his mouth with toast, pretending to be ravenous.

Snape raised his brows, and returned his focus to the paper.

"No. You are right of course." He said noncommittally. "I have only been looking out for your well-being since you set foot in Hogwarts. Naturally, I wouldn't care if your Gryffindor behavior pushed you into danger." Pausing for effect he pierced the boy with a pointed glare. "Again."

Memories of Snape disobeying and infuriating him flooded Harry's mind. Voldemort's thoughts surfaced, accompanied with the anger and irritation he felt at the dark-clad man in front of him. Harry breathed deeply, attempting to superimpose this morning's worry over the alien thoughts. He nearly succeeded, when memories of Snape taunting Sirius in this very kitchen slipped to the forefront. Slamming his fork down, Harry glared at the man calmly reading on the other side of the table.

"I don't know how many times you feel you must point out my idiocy." He questioned. "Yes, I know, if I had learnt Occlumency I would not have listened to Voldemort, and then Sirius would still be alive."

Snape lowered his paper to look at the heavily breathing boy, who cast down his eyes and began observing the tabletop with seemingly acute interest.

"Certainly." Came the professor's measured response, as the man leaned slightly forward, all the while leveling his intense gaze at the red-faced boy. "And had I taken my promise to get to know you before judging your character, we would not be here either. But when your temper tantrum's so effectively call forth the memory of your sainted father, I have a hard time returning your insults with civility, you understand."

Harry sat there for a moment agape, trying to process what he heard.

"A promise?" he finally managed to ask, still not comprehending. Snape had not only implied that he had been trying to act civil toward Harry, but also came very close to openly admitting his responsibility in Sirius' death.

"Indeed, Potter," he returned scathingly. "I'm sitting here with you because of the manipulations of an old man. Ever since Black died, I have kept a close eye on you, as the Headmaster was reluctant to do so." The professor paused feigning like he was faced with a difficult puzzle. "His decision may have had something to do with the complete destruction of his office furniture at your able hands…"

The last sentence had Harry blushing so fiercely that he decided to take a closer look at his breakfast scramble. His nausea returned full force as soon as he lifted the fork and a whiff of the smell reached his nostrils. Ignoring his food in favor of a cup of tea, he reluctantly recalled that even though the school year had started miserably for him, it had not been Snape's fault this time.

In fact, the professor let slip several of his misdeeds in potions class. And while he did assign many detentions, none of them were with Filtch. Seeing it in a different light, Harry realized that they allowed the potions master to keep a closer eye on him. His grimace at the thought seemed to prompt Snape into further admissions.

"As hard as it is for me to believe, you are not nearly comparable to your father," he continued quietly, clearing his throat. "Albus is usually right, and I do see it now. He was correct when pointing out our resemblance in face of my protestations against teaching you last year. I'm not blind enough to deny that I have unfairly judged you as an arrogant, spoilt child."

Harry felt acutely uncomfortable hearing the professor's words. Yet, he found it hard to believe that the man, who had spent five years torturing and humiliating him in school, had done it due to a _misunderstanding._ Deciding to voice his doubts, he raised his eyes to the professor's face.

"Why should I believe that you have been watching out for me?" he asked, surprised that his words came out with such vehemence. "Each time you saw me in the hallway, and every time I dared to take a breath in potions class you did nothing but belittled me and humiliated me in front of my friends!"

Snape leaned back and crossed his arms before delivering his answer.

"As I've said, memories of you father are all too easy to call forth. You resemble him greatly, at least in appearance…and some memories are hard to forget." The professor said obligingly. "There are many things in my past, which I prefer not to talk about. Among them are several ignominies I have suffered at your father's hands. In addition to the ones you already are aware of." He added at Harry's questioning look.

Harry was about to inquire of the nature of these events, but taking a closer look at the man's face he realized that it must have cost tremendous effort for the professor to share this much.

He returned to his barely-touched breakfast with a sigh, as the mention of his father's past behavior added to the guilt he already felt. Harry slowly managed to swallow one bite of the scramble, but he felt too queasy to attempt another forkful.

Trenus decided to join them at his moment, and Harry used his entrance as a cover to push his plate aside. With no distraction, his mind immediately wandered back to the tortures he dreamt of.

"Potter!" he heard Snape call out, as the man snapped his fingers an inch from his face. "Did you hear me?"

Harry refocused his eyes with some effort.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I didn't." he admitted quietly.

"Potter," the man repeated. "I asked whether you felt up to assisting me in the lab, assuming you have nothing better to do… I need to prepare several ingredients for the next round of testing."

"Of course." Came the instantaneous reply as the boy immediately jumped up from the table. He gulped down the last of his tea, while Snape stood and cleared away the leftovers with a swish of his wand.

"I just arrived, and both of you have to leave less then a minute after?" whined Trenus from the corner of the table.

"Yes, and make sure you don't follow us, the lab is no place for an irritating candle." Cut in Harry, before Snape could reply. "You would probably annoy me into exploding this entire place."

"For once I agree with Potter." Harry heard Snape announce, while he already took off toward the lab. "Stay here, and find some other way to entertain yourself."

"But…"

A/N.: Thanks for everyone who's reading. And special thanks for all who reviewed. I will try to get the next chapter up in a timely fashion.


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